HUGO 

A  FANTASIA  ON  MODERN  THEMES 


BY      ARNOLD      BENNETT 


NOVELS 

THE  OLD  WIVES'  TALE 

HELEN  WITH  THE  HIGH  HAND 

THE  MATADOR  OF  THE  FIVE  TOWNS 

THE  BOOK  OF  CARLOTTA 

BURIED  ALIVE 

A  GREAT  MAN 

LEONORA 

WHOM  GOD  HATH  JOINED 

A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

ANNA  OF  THE  FIVE  TOWNS 

THE  GLIMPSE 

POCKET  PHILOSOPHIES 

How  TO  LIVE  ON  24  HOURS  A  DAY 
THE  HUMAN  MACHINE 
LITERARY  TASTE 
MENTAL  EFFICIENCY 

PLAYS 

CUPID  AND  COMMONSENSE 
WHAT  THE   PUBLIC  WANTS 
POLITE   FARCES 
MILESTONES 
THE  HONEYMOON 

MISCELLANEOUS 

THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  AN  AUTHOR 
THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  FRIEND 


GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


HUGO 

A  Fantasia  on  Modern  Themes 

BY 

ARNOLD  BENNETT 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  OLD  WIVES  TALE,"  "HOW  TO  LIVE 
ON  TWENTY- FOUR  HOURS  A  DAY,"  ETC. 


GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 

Publishers  in  America  for  Hodder  &  Stoughton 


COPYRIGHT   1900 

BY 
F.  M.  BUCKLES  &  Co 


Hugo 


CONTENTS 

PARTI 

THE  SEALED  ROOMS 

•MI 

I.   THE   DOME                             •                 •  •  • 

II.    THE    ESTABLISHMENT      .                 •  •  •            9 

III.  HUGO    EXPLAINS    HIMSELF                •  •  -         20 

IV.  CAMILLA                                                        •  •  -33 
V.    A    STORY    AND    A    DISAPPEARANCE  •  •         43 

VI.  A  LAPSE  FROM  AN  IDEAL  -  •  -  59 

VII.  POSSIBLE  ESCAPE  OF  SECRETS  •  •  66 

VIII.  ORANGE-BLOSSOM  -  •  •  •  80 

IX.  'WHICH?'  -  •  •  -  .88 

X.  THE  COFFIN  -  •  •  •  -96 

PARTH 
THE  PHONOGRAPH 

XI.    SALE     -                  -                  -                  -  •  -119 

XII.    SAFE    DEPOSIT  -                  •                  •  •  -137 

XIII.  MR.    GALPIN       -                  •                  •  •  -       147 

XIV.  TEA      --••»-       154 
XV.    RAVENGAR    IN   CAPTIVITY               •  •  •      l62 


255529 


vi  CONTENTS 


XVI.  BURGLARS  -  -  .  -  -175 

XVII.  POLYCARP   AND    HAWKED    MAN    -  -  -       185 

XVIII.  HUSBAND    AND    WIFE       -  -  -  -       195 

XIX.  WHAT    THE    PHONOGRAPH    SAID  •  •      205 


PART  III 
THE   TOMB 

xx.  'ARE  YOU  THERE?'     •            .  •            -231 

xxi.  SUICIDE  •                  239 

XXII.    DARCY  -  ....      249 

XXIII.    FIRST   TRIUMPH    OF    SIMON              •  258 

XXIV.    THE    LODGING-HOUSE       -                  .  .                  «      263 

XXV.    CHLOROFORM     -                  -                  •  .                   •       278 

XXVI.    SECOND    TRIUMPH    OF   SIMON         -  •      291 

XXVII.    THE   CEMETERY                                    •  .                 .      302 

XXVIII.    BEAUTY                                                      •  . 


PAET  I 
THE  SEALED  KOOMS 


HUGO 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   DOME 

» 

HE  wakened  from  a  charming  dream,  in  which 
the  hat  had  played  a  conspicuous  part. 

'  I  shouldn't  mind  having  that  hat,'  he 
murmured. 

A  darkness  which  no  eye  could  penetrate 
surrounded  him  as  he  lay  in  bed.  Absolute 
obscurity  was  essential  to  the  repose  of  that 
singular  brain,  and  he  had  perfected  arrange- 
ments for  supplying  the  deficiencies  of 
Nature's  night. 

He  touched  a  switch,  and  in  front  of  him  at 
a  distance  of  thirty  feet  the  ivory  dial  of  a 
clock  became  momentarily  visible  under  the 
soft  yellow  of  a  shaded  electric  globe.  It  was 
fifteen  minutes  past  six.  At  the  same 
moment  a  bell  sounded  the  quarter  in  delicate 
tones,  which  fell  on  the  ear  as  lightly  as  dew. 
In  the  upper  glooar  e.ould.  be  discerned  the 


2  HUGO 

contours  of  a  vast  dome,  decorated  in  tur- 
quoise-blue and  gold. 

He  pressed  a  button  near  the  switch.  A 
portiere  rustled,  and  a  young  man  approached 
his  bed — a  short,  thin,  pale,  fair  young  man, 
active  and  deferential. 

'  My  tea,  Shawn.  Draw  the  curtains  and 
open  the  windows.' 

'  Yes,  sir,'  said  Simon  Shawn. 

In  an  instant  the  room  was  brilliantly 
revealed  as  a  great  circular  apartment, 
magnificently  furnished,  with  twelve  windows 
running  round  the  circumference  beneath  the 
dome.  The  virginal  zephyrs  of  a  July 
morning  wandered  in.  The  sun,  although 
fierce,  slanted  his  rays  through  the  six  eastern 
windows,  printing  a  new  pattern  on  the 
Tripoli  carpets.  Between  the  windows  were 
bookcases,  full  of  precious  and  extraordinary 
volumes,  and  over  the  bookcases  hung  pictures 
of  the  Barbizon  school.  These  books  and 
these  pictures  were  the  elegant  monument  of 
hobbies  which  their  owner  had  outlived. 
His  present  hobby  happened  to  be  music.  A 
Steinway  grand-piano  was  prominent  in  the 
chamber,  and  before  the  ebony  instrument 
stood  a  mechanical  pianoforte-player. 

'  I  must  have  that  hat.' 


THE  DOME  3 

He  paused  reflectively,  leaning  on  one 
elbow,  as  he  made  the  tea  which  Simon 
Shawn  had  brought  and  left  on  the  night- 
table.  And  again,  at  the  third  cup,  he 
repeated  to  himself  that  he  must  possess  the 
hat. 

He  had  a  passion  for  tea.  His  servants  had 
received  the  strictest  orders  to  supply  him  at 
early  morn  with  materials  sufficient  only  for 
two  cups.  Nevertheless,  they  were  always  a 
little  generous,  and,  by  cheating  himself 
slightly  in  the  first  and  the  second  cup,  the 
votary  could  often,  to  his  intense  joy,  conjure 
a  third  out  of  the  pot. 

After  glancing  through  the  newspaper 
which  accompanied  the  tea,  he  jumped  viva- 
ciously out  of  bed,  veiled  the  splendour  of  his 
pyjamas  beneath  a  quilted  toga,  and  disap- 
peared into  a  dressing-room,  whistling. 

'  Shawn !'  he  cried  out  from  his  bath,  when 
he  heard  the  rattle  of  the  tea-tray. 

6  Yes,  sir  ?' 

c  Play  me  the  Chopin  Fantasie,  will  you.  I 
feel  like  it.' 

'  Certainly,  sir,'  said  Simon,  and  paused. 
'  Which  particular  one  do  you  desire  me  to 
render,  sir  ?' 

'  There  is  only  one,  Shawn,  for  piano  solo.' 

1—2 


4  HUGO 

*  I  beg  pardon,  sir.' 

The  gentle  plashing  of  water  mingled  with 
the  strains  of  one  of  the  greatest  of  all  musical 
compositions,  as  interpreted  by  Simon  Shawn 
with  the  aid  of  an  ingenious  contrivance  the 
patentees  of  which  had  spent  twenty  thousand 
pounds  in  advertising  it. 

'  Very  good,  Shawn,'  said  Shawn's  master, 
coming  forward  in  his  shirt-sleeves  as  the  last 
echoes  of  a  mighty  chord  expired  under  the 
dome.  He  meditatively  stroked  his  graying 
beard  while  the  pianist  returned  to  the  tea- 
tray.  '  And,  Shawn ' 

'  Yes,  sir  ?' 

'  I  want  a  hat.' 

'  A  hat,  sir  ?' 

'  A  lady's  hat.' 

'  Yes,  sir.' 

'  Run  down  into  Department  42,  there's 
a  good  fellow,  and  see  if  you  can  find  me  a 
lady's  hat  of  dark-blue  straw,  wide  brim, 
trimmed  chiefly  with  a  garland  of  pinkish 
rosebuds.' 

*  A  lady's   hat   of  dark-blue   straw,   wide 
brim,  trimmed  chiefly  with  pinkish  rosebuds, 
sir?' 

*  Precisely.     Here,    you're    forgetting    the 
token.' 


THE  DOME  5 

He  detached  a  gold  medallion  from  his 
watch-chain,  and  handed  it  to  Shawn,  who 
departed  with  it  and  with  the  tea-tray. 

Two  minutes  later,  having  climbed  the 
staircase  between  the  inner  and  outer  domes, 
he  stood,  fully  clad  in  a  light-gray  suit,  on 
the  highest  platform  of  the  immense  building, 
whose  occidental  fagade  is  the  glory  of  Sloane 
Street  and  one  of  the  marvels  of  the  metro- 
polis. Far  above  him  a  gigantic  flag  spread 
its  dazzling  folds  to  the  sun  and  the  breeze. 
On  the  white  ground  of  the  flag,  in  purple 
letters  seven  feet  high,  was  traced  the  single 
word,  '  HUGO.' 

From  his  eyrie  he  could  see  half  the  West 
End  of  London.  Sloane  Street  stretched 
north  and  south  like  a  ruled  line,  and  along 
that  line  two  hurrying  processions  of  black 
dots  approached  each  other,  and  met  and 
vanished  below  him  ;  they  constituted  the 
first  division  of  his  army  of  three  thousand 
five  hundred  employes. 

He  leaned  over  the  balustrade,  and  sniffed 
the  pure  air  with  exultant,  eager  nostrils. 
He  was  forty-six.  He  did  not  feel  forty-six, 
however.  In  common  with  every  man  of 
forty-six,  and  especially  every  bachelor  of 
forty-six,  he  regarded  forty-six  as  a  mere 


6  HUGO 

meaningless  number,  as  a  futile  and  even  mis- 
leading symbol  of  chronology.  He  felt  that 
Time  had  made  a  mistake — that  he  was  not 
really  in  the  fifth  decade,  and  that  his  true, 
practical  working  age  was  about  thirty. 

Moreover,  he  was  in  love,  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life.  Like  all  men  and  all  women,  he 
had  throughout  the  whole  of  his  adult  exist- 
ence been  ever  secretly  preoccupied  with 
thoughts,  hopes,  aspirations,  desires,  con- 
cerning the  other  sex,  but  the  fundamental 
inexperience  of  his  heart  was  such  that  he 
imagined  he  was  going  to  be  happy  because 
he  had  fallen  in  love. 

'  I'm  glad  P  sent  for  that  hat,'  he  said, 
smiling  absently  at  the  Great  Wheel  over  a 
mile  and  a  half  of  roofs. 

The  key  to  his  character  and  his  career  lay 
in  the  fact  that  he  invariably  found  sufficient 
courage  to  respond  to  his  instincts,  and  that 
his  instincts  were  romantic.  They  had  led 
him  in  various  ways,  sometimes  to  grandiose 
and  legitimate  triumphs,  sometimes  to  hidden 
shames  which  it  is  merciful  to  ignore.  In  the 
main,  they  had  served  him  well.  It  was  in 
obedience  to  an  instinct  that  he  had  capped 
the  nine  stories  of  the  Hugo  building  with  a 
dome»and  had  made  his  bed  under  the  dome. 


THE  DOME  7 

It  was  in  obedience  to  another  instinct  that 
he  had  sent  for  the  hat. 

'  Very  pretty,  isn't  it  ?'  he  observed  to 
Shawn,  when  Simon  handed  him  the  insub- 
stantial and  gay  object  and  restored  the  gold 
token.  They  were  at  a  window  in  the  cir- 
cular room  ;  the  couch  had  magically  melted 
away. 

'  I  admire  it,  sir,'  said  Shawn,  and  with- 
drew. 

'  Dolt !'  he  cried  out  upon  Shawn  in  his 
heart.  '  You  didn't  see  her  at  work  on  it. 
As  if  you  could  appreciate  her  exquisite  taste 
and  the  amazing  skill  of  her  blanched  fingers  1 
I  alone  can  appreciate  these  things  !' 

He  hung  the  hat  on  a  Louis  Quatorze 
screen,  and  blissfully  gazed  at  it,  her  creation. 

'  But  I  must  be  careful,'  he  muttered — *  I 
must  be  careful.' 

A  clerk  entered  with  his  personal  letters. 
It  was  scarcely  seven  o'clock,  but  these 
fifteen  or  twenty  envelopes  had  already  been 
sorted  from  the  three  thousand  missives  that 
constituted  his  first  post ;  he  had  his  own 
arrangement  with  the  Post- Office. 

'  So  it's  coming  at  last,'  he  said  to  himself, 
as  he  opened  an  envelope  marked  *  Private 
and  Confidential '  in  red  ink.  The  autograph 


8  HUGO 

note  within  was  from  Senior  Poly  carp,  prin- 
cipal partner  in  Polycarps,  the  famous  firm 
of  company-promoting  solicitors,  and  it 
heralded  a  personal  visit  from  the  august 
lawyer  at  11.30  that  day. 

In  the  midst  of  dictating  instructions  to  the 
clerk,  Mr.  Hugo  stopped  and  rang  for  Shawn. 

*  Take  that  back,'  he  commanded,  indi- 
cating the  hat.  *  I've  done  with  it.' 

'  Yes,  sir.' 

The  hat  went. 

'  I  may  just  as  well  be  discreet,'  his  thought 
ran. 

But  her  image,  the  image  of  the  artist  in 
hats,  illumined  more  brightly  than  ever  his 
souL 


CHAPTER  H 

THE   ESTABLISHMENT 

SEVEN  years  before,  when,  having  unosten- 
tatiously acquired  the  necessary  land,  and 
an  acre  or  two  over,  Hugo  determined  to 
rebuild  his  premises  and  to  burst  into  full 
blossom,  he  visited  America  and  Paris,  and 
amongst  other  establishments  inspected 
Wanamaker's,  the  Bon  Marche,  and  the 
Magasins  du  Louvre.  The  result  disappointed 
him.  He  had  expected  to  pick  up  ideas,  but 
he  picked  up  nothing  save  the  Bon  Marche 
system  of  vouchers,  by  which  a  customer 
buying  in  several  departments  is  spared  the 
trouble  of  paying  separately  in  each  depart- 
ment. He  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  art 
of  flinging  money  away  in  order  that  it  may 
return  tenfold  was  yet  quite  in  its  infancy. 
He  said  to  himself,  '  I  will  build  a  shop.' 

Travelling   home  by  an  indirect  route,  he 
stopped  at  a  busy  English  seaport,  and  saw  a 

9 


10  HUGO 

great  town-hall  majestically  rising  in  the 
midst  of  a  park.  The  beautiful  building  did 
not  appeal  to  him  in  vain.  At  the  gates  of 
the  park  he  encountered  a  youth,  who  was 
staring  at  the  town-hall  with  a  fixed  and 
fascinated  stare. 

'  A  fine  structure,'  Hugo  commented  to  the 
youth. 

4  /  think  so,'  was  the  reply. 

'  Can  you  tell  me  who  is  the  architect  ?' 
asked  Hugo. 

6 1  am,'  said  the  youth.  *  And  let  me  beg 
of  you  not  to  make  any  remark  on  my  juvenile 
appearance.  I  am  sick  of  that.' 

They  lunched  together,  and  Hugo  learnt 
that  the  genius,  after  several  years  spent  in 
designing  the  varnished  interiors  of  public- 
houses,  had  suddenly  come  out  first  in  an  open 
competition  for  the  town-hall ;  thenceforward 
he  had  thought  in  town-halls. 

'  I  want  a  shop  putting  up,'  said  Hugo. 

The  youth  showed  no  interest. 

'  And  when  I  say  a  shop,'  Hugo  pursued, 
'  I  mean  a  shop.' 

'  Oh,  a  shop  you  mean !'  ejaculated  the 
youth,  faintly  stirred.  They  both  spoke  in 
italics. 

*  A  real  shop.     Sloane  Street.     A  hundred 


THE  ESTABLISHMENT  11 

and  eighty  thousand  superficial  feet.  Cost  a 
quarter  of  a  million.  The  finest  shop  in  the 
world  !' 

The  youth  started  to  his  feet. 

'  I've  never  had  any  luck,'  said  he,  gazing 
at  Hugo.  c  But  I  believe  you  really  do  under- 
stand what  a  shop  ought  to  be.' 

'  I  believe  I  do,'  Hugo  concurred.  '  And  I 
want  one.' 

'  You  shall  have  it !'  said  the  youth. 

And  Hugo  had  it,  though  not  for  anything 
like  the  sum  he  had  named. 

The  four  frontages  of  his  land  exceeded  in 
all  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  The  frontage  to  Sloane 
Street  alone  was  five  hundred  feet.  It  was 
this  glorious  stretch  of  expensive  earth  which 
inflamed  the  architect's  imagination. 

'  But  we  must  set  back  the  fagade  twenty 
feet  at  least,'  he  said  ;  and  added,  '  That  will 
give  you  a  good  pavement.' 

'  Young  man,'  cried  Hugo,  '  do  you  know 
how  much  this  land  has  stood  me  in  a 
foot  ?' 

'  I  neither  know  nor  care,'  answered  the 
youth.  '  All  I  say  is,  what's  the  use  of  putting 
up  a  decent  building  unless  people  can  see  it  ¥ 

Hugo  yielded.  He  felt  as  though,  having 
given  the  genius  something  to  play  with,  he 


12  HUGO 

must  not  spoil  the  game.  The  game  included 
twelve  thousand  pounds  paid  to  budding 
sculptors  for  monumental  groups  of  a  symbolic 
tendency  ;  it  included  forests  of  onyx  pillars 
and  pillars  of  Carrara  marble  ;  it  included 
ceilings  painted  by  artists  who  ought  to  have 
been  R.A.'s,  but  were  not ;  and  it  included  a 
central  court  of  vast  dimensions  and  many 
fountains,  whose  sole  purpose  was  to  charm 
the  eye  and  lure  the  feet  of  customers  who 
wanted  a  rest  from  spending  money.  When- 
ever Hugo  found  the  game  over-exciting,  he 
soothed  himself  by  dwelling  upon  the  wonder- 
ful plan  which  the  artist  had  produced,  of  his 
extraordinary  grasp  of  practical  needs,  and 
his  masterly  solution  of  the  various  compli- 
cated problems  which  continually  presented 
themselves. 

After  the  last  bit  of  scaffolding  was  removed 
and  the  machine  in  full  working  order,  Hugo 
beheld  it,  and  said  emphatically, '  This  will  do.' 

All  London  stood  amazed,  but  not  at  the 
austere  beauty  of  the  whole,  for  only  a  few 
connoisseurs  could  appreciate  that.  What 
amazed  London  was  the  fabulous  richness,  the 
absurd  spaciousness,  the  extravagant  perfec- 
tion of  every  part  of  the  immense  organism. 

You   could    stroll    across    twenty   feet   of 


THE  ESTABLISHMENT  13 

private  tessellated  pavement,  enter  jewelled 
portals  with  the  assistance  of  jewelled  com- 
missionaires, traverse  furlong  after  furlong  of 
vistas  where  nought  but  man  was  vile, 
sojourn  by  the  way  in  the  concert-hall,  the 
reading-room,  or  the  picture-gallery,  smoke 
a  cigarette  in  the  court  of  fountains,  write  a 
letter  in  the  lounge,  and  finally  ask  to  be 
directed  to  the  stationery  department,  where? 
seated  on  a  specially  designed  chair  and  sur- 
rounded by  the  most  precious  manifestations 
of  applied  art,  you  could  select  a  threepenny 
box  of  J  pens,  and  have  it  sent  home  in  a  pair- 
horse  van. 

The  unobservant  visitor  wondered  how 
Hugo  made  it  pay.  The  observant  visitor 
did  not  fail  to  note  that  there  were  more  than 
a  hundred  cash-desks  in  the  place,  and  that 
all  the  cashiers  had  the  air  of  being  over- 
worked. Once  the  entire  army  of  cashiers, 
driven  to  defensive  action,  had  combined  in 
order  to  demand  from  Hugo,  not  only  higher 
pay,  but  an  increase  in  their  numbers.  Hugo 
had  immediately  consented,  expressing  regret 
that  their  desperate  plight  had  escaped  his 
attention. 

The  registered  telegraphic  address  of  the 
establishment  was  '  Complete,  London.' 


14  HUGO 

This  address  indicated  the  ideal  which  Hugo 
liad  turned  into  a  reality.  His  imperial 
palace  was  far  more  than  a  universal  bazaar. 
He  boasted  that  you  could  do  everything 
there,  except  get  into  debt.  (His  dictionary 
was  an  expurgated  edition,  and  did  not 
contain  the  word  '  credit.')  Throughout  life's 
fitful  fever  Hugo  undertook  to  meet  all  your 
demands.  Your  mother  could  buy  your 
layette  from  him,  and  your  cradle,  soothing- 
syrup,  perambulator,  and  toys ;  she  could 
hire  your  nurse  at  Hugo's.  Your  school- 
master could  purchase  canes  there.  Hugo 
sold  the  material  for  every  known  game  ;  also 
sweets,  cigarettes,  penknives,  walking-sticks, 
moustache-forcers,  neckties,  and  trouser- 
stretchers.  He  shaved  you,  and  kept  the 
latest  in  scents  and  kit-bags.  He  was  unsur- 
passed for  fishing-rods,  motor-cars,  Swin- 
burne's poems,  button-holes,  elaborate  bou- 
quets, fans,  and  photographs.  His  restaurant 
was  full  of  discreet  corners  with  tables  for  two 
under  rose-shaded  lights.  He  booked  seats 
for  theatres,  trains,  steamers,  grand-stands, 
and  the  Empire.  He  dealt  in  all  stocks  and 
shares.  He  was  a  banker.  He  acted  as 
agent  for  all  insurance  companies.  He  would 
insert  advertisements  in  the  agony  column,  or 


THE  ESTABLISHMENT  15 

any  other  column,  of  any  newspaper.  If  you 
wanted  a  flat,  a  house,  a  shooting-box,  a 
castle,  a  yacht,  or  a  salmon  river,  Hugo  could 
sell,  or  Hugo  could  let,  the  very  thing.  He 
provided  strong-rooms  for  your  savings,  and 
summer  quarters  for  your  wife's  furs  ;  con- 
jurers to  amuse  your  guests  after  dinner,  and 
all  the  requisites  for  your  daughter's  wedding, 
from  the  cake  and  the  silk  petticoats  to  the 
Viennese  band.  His  wine-cellars  and  his 
specific  for  the  gout  were  alike  famous ;  so 
also  was  his  hair-dye.  .  .  .  And,  lastly, 
when  the  riddle  of  existence  had  become  too 
much  for  your  curiosity,  Hugo  would  sell  you 
a  pistol  by  means  of  which  you  could  solve  it. 
And  he  would  bury  you  in  a  manner  first- 
class,  second-class,  or  third-class,  according 
to  your  deserts. 

And  all  these  feats  Hugo  managed  to 
organize  within  the  compass  of  four  floors,  a 
basement,  and  a  sub-basement.  Above,  were 
five  floors  of  furnished  and  unfurnished  flats. 
*  Will  people  of  wealth  consent  to  live  over  a 
shop  ?'  he  had  asked  himself  in  considering 
the  possibilities  of  his  palace,  and  he  had 
replied,  c  Yes,  if  the  shop  is  large  enough  and 
the  rents  are  high  enough.'  He  was  right. 
His  flats  were  the  most  sumptuous  and  the 


16  HUGO 

most  preposterously  expensive  in  London ; 
and  they  were  never  tenantless.  One  man 
paid  two  thousand  a  year  for  a  furnished 
suite.  But  what  a  furnished  suite !  The 
flats  had  a  separate  and  spectacular  entrance 
on  the  eastern  fagade  of  the  building,  with  a 
foyer  that  was  always  brilliantly  lighted,  and 
elevators  that  rose  and  sank  without  inter- 
mission day  or  night.  And  on  the  ninth  floor 
was  a  special  restaurant,  with  prices  to  match 
the  rents,  and  a  roof  garden,  where  one  of 
Hugo's  orchestras  played  every  fine  summer 
evening,  except  Sundays.  (The  County 
Council,  mistrusting  this  aerial  combination 
of  music  and  moonbeams,  had  granted  its 
license  only  on  the  condition  that  customers 
should  have  one  night  in  which  to  recover 
from  the  doubtful  influences  of  the  other  six.) 
The  restaurant  and  the  roof-garden  were  a 
resort  excessively  fashionable  during  the 
season.  The  garden  gave  an  excellent  view 
of  the  dome,  where  Hugo  lived.  But  few 
persons  knew  that  he  lived  there  ;  in  some 
matters  he  was  very  secretive. 

That  very  sultry  morning  Hugo  brooded 
over  the  face  of  his  establishment  like  a  spirit 
doomed  to  perpetual  motion.  For  more  than 
two  hours  he  threaded  ceaselessly  the  long 


THE  ESTABLISHMENT  17 

galleries  where  the  usual  daily  crowds  of 
customers,  sales-people,  shopwalkers,  inspec- 
tors, sub-managers,  managers,  and  private 
detectives  of  both  sexes,  moved  with  a  strange 
and  unaccustomed  languor  in  a  drowsy  atmo- 
sphere which  no  system  of  ventilation  could 
keep  below  75°  Fahrenheit.  None  but  the 
chiefs  of  departments  had  the  right  to  address 
him  as  he  passed ;  such  was  the  rule.  He 
deviated  into  the  counting-house,  where  two 
hundred  typewriters  made  their  music,  and 
into  the  annexe  containing  the  stables  and 
coach-houses,  where  scores  of  vans  and  auto- 
mobiles, and  those  elegant  coupes  gratuitously 
provided  by  Hugo  for  the  use  of  important 
clients,  were  continually  arriving  and  leaving. 
Then  he  returned  to  the  purchasing  multi- 
tudes, and  plunged  therein  as  into  a  sea.  At 
intervals  a  customer,  recognising  him,  would 
nudge  a  friend,  and  point  eagerly. 

'  That's  Hugo.     See  him,  in  the  gray  suit  ?' 

'  What  ?     That  chap  ?' 

And  they  would  both  probably  remark  at 
lunch  :  '  I  saw  Hugo  himself  to-day  at  Hugo's.' 

He  took  an  oath  in  his  secret  heart  that  he 
would  not  go  near  Department  42,  the  only 
department  which  had  the  slightest  interest 
for  him.  He  knew  that  he  could  not  be  too 

2 


18  HUGO 

discreet.  And  yet  eventually,  without  know- 
ing how  or  why,  he  perceived  of  a  sudden  that 
his  legs  carried  him  thither.  He  stopped,  at 
a  loss  what  to  do,  and  then,  by  the  direct 
interposition  of  kindly  Fate,  a  manager  spoke 
to  him.  .  .  .  He  gazed  out  of  the  corner  of 
his  eye.  Yes,  she  was  there.  He  could  see 
her  through  a  half-drawn  portiere  in  one  of 
the  trying-on  rooms.  She  was  sitting  limp 
on  a  chair,  overcome  by  the  tropic  warmth  of 
Sloane  Street,  with  her  noble  head  thrown 
back,  her  fine  eyes  half  shut,  and  her 
beautiful  hands  lying  slackly  on  her  black 
apron. 

What  an  impeachment  of  civilization  that 
a  creature  so  fair  and  so  divine  should  be 
forced  to  such  a  martyrdom  !  He  desired 
ardently  to  run  to  her  and  to  set  her  free  for 
the  day,  for  the  whole  summer,  and  on  full 
wages.  He  wondered  if  he  could  trust  the 
manager  with  instructions  to  alleviate  her  lot. 
.  .  .  The  next  instant  she  sprang  up,  giving 
the  indispensable  smile  of  welcome  to  some 
customer  who  had  evidently  entered  the 
trying-on  room  from  the  other  side.  The 
phenomenon  distressed  him.  She  disap- 
peared from  view  behind  the  portiere,  and 
reappeared,  but  only  for  a  moment,  talking  to 


THE  ESTABLISHMENT  19 

a  foppish  old  man  with  a  white  moustache. 
It  was  Senior  Polycarp,  the  lawyer. 

Hugo  flushed,  and,  abandoning  the  manager 
in  the  middle  of  a  sentence,  fled  to  his  central 
office.  He  had  no  confidence  in  his  self- 
command.  .  .  .  Could  this  be  jealousy  ? 
Was  it  possible  that  he,  Hugo,  should  be  so 
far  gone  ?  Nay  ! 

But  what  was  Polycarp,  that  old  and 
desiccated  widower,  doing  in  the  millinery 
department  ? 

He  said  he  must  form  some  definite  plan, 
and  begin  by  giving  her  a  private  room. 


1-S 


CHAPTER  HI 

HUGO   EXPLAINS   HIMSELF 

*  AND  what,'  asked  Hugo,  smiling  faintly  at 
Mr.  Senior  Poly  carp — '  what  is  your  client's 
idea  of  price  ?' 

For  half  an  hour  they  had  been  talking  in 
the  luxurious  calm  of  Hugo's  central  office, 
which  was  like  an  island  refuge  in  the  middle 
of  that  tossing  ocean  of  business.  It  over- 
looked the  court  of  fountains  from  the  second 
story,  and  the  highest  jet  of  water  threw  a 
few  jewelled  drops  to  the  level  of  its  windows. 

Mr.  Polycarp  stroked  his  beautiful  white 
moustache. 

'  We  would  give,'  he  said  in  his  mincing, 
passionless  voice,  *  the  cost  price  of  premises, 
stock,  and  fixtures,  and  for  goodwill  seven 
times  your  net  annual  profits.  In  addition, 
we  should  be  anxious  to  secure  your  services 
as  managing  director  for  ten  years  at  five 
thousand  a  year,  plus  a  percentage  of  profits.' 

20 


HUGO  EXPLAINS  HIMSELF        21 

'  Hum  !' 

*  And,  of  course,  if  you  wished  part  of  the 
purchase-money  in  shares ' 

'  Have  you  formed  any  sort  of  estimate  of 
my  annual  profits  ?'  Hugo  demanded. 

*  Yes — a  sort  of  estimate.' 

*  You  have  looked  carefully  round,  eh  ?' 

'  My  clients  have.  I  myself,  too,  a  little. 
This  morning,  for  example.  Very  healthy, 
Mr.  Hugo.' 

'  What  departments  did  you  visit  this 
morning  ?  Each  has  its  busy  days.' 

'  Grocery,  electrical,  and — let  me  see — yes, 
furniture.' 

'  Not  a  good  day  for  that — too  hot !  Any- 
thing else  ?' 

'  No,'  said  Mr.  Poly  carp. 

6  Ah  !  ...  Well,  and  what  is  your  clients' 
estimate  ?' 

'  Naturally,  I  cannot  pretend ' 

*  Listen,  Mr.  Polycarp,'  said  Hugo,  inter- 
rupting :  '  I  will  be  open  with  you.' 

The  lawyer  nodded,  appreciatively  benign. 
As  usual,  he  kept  his  thoughts  to  himself,  but 
he  had  the  air  of  adding  Hugo  to  the  vast 
collection  of  human  curiosities  which  he 
had  made  during  a  prolonged  professional 
career. 


22  HUGO 

'  My   net   trading   profits  last   year   were 
£106,000.     You  are  surprised  ?' 
'  Somewhat.' 

*  You  expected  a  higher  figure  ?* 
'  We  did.' 

*  I  knew  it.     And  the  figure  might  be  higher 
if  I  chose.     Only  I  do  things  in  rather  a  royal 
way>  y°u  see«     I  Pay  my  staff  five  hundred  a 
week  more  than  I  need.     And  I  allow  myself 
to     be     cheated.'       He    laughed    suddenly. 
'  Costume  department,  for  instance.     I  send 
charming    costumes    out    on    approval,    and 
fetch  them  back  in  two  days.     And  the  pretty 
girls  who  have  taken  off  the  tickets,  and  worn 
the    garments,    and    carefully    restored    the 
tickets,  and  lied  to  my  carmen — the  pretty 
girls  imagine  they  have  deceived  me.     They 
have    merely    amused    me.       My    detective 
reports   are   excellent  reading.     And,   more- 
over, I  like  to  think  that  I  have  helped  a 
pretty  girl  to  make  the  best  of  herself.' 

'  Immoral  and  unbusinesslike,  Mr.  Hugo.' 
4  Admitted.     I  have  no  doubt  that  if  I  put 
the  screw  on  all  round  I  could  quite  justifiably 
increase  my  profits  by  fifty  per  cent.' 

'  That  shows  what  a  splendid  prospect  a 
limited  company  would  have.' 

*  Yes,    doesn't   it  ?'    said    Hugo    joyously. 


HUGO  EXPLAINS  HIMSELF        23 

*  But  why  are  your  clients  so  anxious  to  turn 
me  into  a  limited  company  ?' 

'  They  see  in  your  undertaking,'  replied 
Polycarp,  folding  his  thin  hands,  '  a  legitimate 
opening  for  that  joint-stock  enterprise  which 
has  had  such  a  beneficial  effect  on  England's 
prosperity.' 

'  They  would  make  a  profit  ?' 

*  A  reasonable  profit.     A  small  syndicate 
would  be  formed  to  buy  from  you,  and  that 
syndicate  would  sell  to  a  public  company. 
The  usual  thing.' 

'  And  where  do  I  come  in  ?' 

*  Where   do   you   come   in,    my   dear   Mr. 
Hugo  ?      Everywhere !     You    would   receive 
over  a  million  in  cash.     You  would  have  your 
salary  and  your  percentage,  and  you  would  be 
relieved  of  all  your  present  risks.' 

'  All  my  present  risks  ?' 

*  You  have  risks,  Mr.  Hugo,  because  your 
business  has  increased  so  rapidly  that  your 
income  is  out  of  all  proportion  to  your  capital, 
which    consists    almost    solely    of    buildings 
which  you  could  not  sell  at  anything  like  their 
cost  price  in  open  market,  and  of  goodwill. 
Now,  I  ask  you,  what  is  goodwill  ?     What  is 
it  ?     Under  our  scheme  you  would  at  once 
become  a  millionaire  in  actual  fact.' 


24  HUGO 

*  Decidedly  an  inviting  prospect,'  said  Hugo. 

He  walked  about  the  room. 

'  Then  I  may  take  it  that  you  are  at  any 
rate  prepared  to  negotiate  ?'  the  lawyer 
ventured,  staring  at  the  fountain. 

'  Mr.  Polycarp,'  answered  Hugo,  c  I  must 
first  give  you  a  little  information  and  ask  you 
a  few  questions.' 

'  Certainly.' 

Hugo  halted  in  front  of  Polycarp,  close  to 
him,  and,  lighting  a  cigar,  gazed  down  at  the 
frigid  lawyer. 

'  Till  the  age  of  twenty-eight,'  he  began,  *  I 
had  no  object  in  life.  I  was  educated  at 
Oxford.  I  narrowly  escaped  the  legal  pro- 
fession. I  had  a  near  shave  of  the  Church. 
I  wasted  years  in  aimless  travel,  waiting  for 
destiny  to  turn  up.  I  was  conscious  of  no  gift 
except  a  power  for  organizing.  That  gift  I 
felt  I  had,  and  gradually  I  perceived  that  I 
would  like  to  be  the  head  of  some  large  and 
complicated  undertaking.  I  examined  the 
latest  developments  of  modern  existence,  and 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  direction  of  a 
thoroughly  up-to-date  stores  would  amuse  me 
as  well  as  anything.  So  I  bought  this  con- 
cern— a  flourishing  little  drapery  and  furnish- 
ing business  it  was  then.  I  had  exactly  fifty 


HUGO  EXPLAINS  HIMSELF        25 

thousand  pounds — not  a  cent  more.  I  paid 
twenty-five  thousand  for  the  business.  It 
was  too  much,  but  when  an  idea  takes  me  it 
takes  me.  I  required  a  fine-sounding  name, 
and  I  chose  Hugo.  It  was  an  inspiration.' 

c  Then  Hugo  is  not  your ' 

4  It  is  not.  My  real  name  is  Owen.  But 
think  of  "  Owen  "  on  a  flag,  and  then  think  of 
"  Hugo  "  on  a  flag.' 

'  Exactly.' 

6 1  began.  And  because  I  had  everything 
to  learn  I  lost  money  at  first.  I  took  lessons 
in  my  own  shop,  and  the  course  cost  me  a 
hundred  a  week  for  some  months.  But  in 
two  years  I  had  proved  that  my  theory  of 
myself  was  correct.  In  ten  I  had  made 
nearly  a  quarter  of  a  million.  Everyone 
knows  the  history  of  my  growth.' 

Polycarp  nodded. 

4  In  the  eleventh  year  I  determined  to 
emerge  from  the  chrysalis.  I  dreamed  a 
dream  of  my  second  incarnation  as  universal 
tradesman.  And  the  fabric  of  my  dream, 
Mr.  Polycarp,  you  behold  around  you.'  He 
waved  the  cigar.  4  It  is  the  most  colossal 
thing  of  its  kind  ever  known.' 

Polycarp  nodded  again. 

*  Some  people  regard  it  as  extravagant.     It 


26  HUGO 

is.  It  is  meant  to  be.  Hugo's  store  is  only 
my  fun,  my  device  for  amusing  myself.  We 
have  glorious  times  here,  I  and  my  ten 
managers — my  Council  of  Ten.  They  know 
me ;  I  know  them.  They  are  well  paid  ;  they 
are  artists.  A  trade  spirit  must,  of  course, 
actuate  a  trade  concern ;  but  above  that, 
controlling  that,  is  another  spirit — the  spirit 
which  has  made  this  undoubtedly  the  greatest 
shop  in  the  world.  I  cannot  describe  it,  but 
it  exists.  All  my  managers,  and  even  many 
of  the  rank  and  file,  feel  it.' 

6  Very  interesting,'  said  the  lawyer. 

*  Mr.  Poly  carp,'  Hugo  announced  solemnly, 
c  the  direction  of  this  establishment  is  my  life. 
In  the  midst  of  this  lovely  and  interesting 
organism   I   enjoy  every   hour  of   the   day. 
What  else  can  I  want  ?' 

Polycarp  raised  his  eyebrows. 

*  Do  you  suppose  it  would  add  to  my  fun  to 
have  a  million  in  the  bank — I,  with  an  income 
of  two  thousand  a  week  ?     Do  you  suppose 
I  should  find  it  diverting  to  be  at  the  beck  and 
call  of  a  board  of  directors — I,  the  supreme 
fount  of  authority  ?     Do  you  suppose  it  would 
be    my    delight    to    consider    eternally    the 
interests  of  a  pack  of  shareholders — I,  who 
consider  nothing  but  my  fancy  ?    And,  finally 9 


HUGO  EXPLAINS  HIMSELF        27 

do  you  suppose  it  would  amuse  me,  Hugo,  to 
have  "  limited  "  put  after  my  name  ?  Me, 
limited !' 

*  Then,'  said  the  lawyer  slowly,  *  I  am  to 
understand  you  are  not  willing ' 

*  My  friend,'  Hugo  replied,  dropping  into 
his    chair,    *  I  would   sooner   see  the  whole 
blessed  place  fall  like  the  Bastille  than  see  it 
"  limited."  ' 

Polycarp  rose  in  his  turn. 

*  My  clients,'   he  remarked  in  a  peculiar 
tone,  '  had  set  their  minds  on  this  affair.' 

*  For  once  in  a  way  your  clients  will  be  dis- 
appointed,' said  Hugo. 

*  What   do    you    mean — "  for    once   in    a 
way  "  ?' 

*  Who  are  your  clients,  Mr.  Polycarp  ?' 

*  Since  the  offer  is  rejected,  it  would  be 
useless  to  divulge  their  names.' 

'  I  will  tell  you,  then,'  said  Hugo.  *  Your 
client — for  there  is  only  one — is  Louis  Raven- 
gar.  I  saw  it  stated  in  a  paper  the  other  day 
that  Louis  Ravengar  had  successfully  floated 
thirty-nine  companies  with  a  total  capitaliza- 
tion of  thirty  millions.  But  my  scalp  will 
not  be  added  to  his  collection.' 

'  I  shall  not  disclose  the  identity  of  my 
clients,'  Mr.  Polycarp  minced.  *  But,  speak- 


28  HUGO 

ing  of  Mr.  Ravengar,  I  have  noticed  that  what 
he  wants  he  gets.  The  manner  in  which  the 
United  Coal  Company,  Limited,  was  brought 
to  flotation  by  him  in  the  teeth  of  the  opposi- 
tion of  the  proprietors  was  really  most  inter- 
esting/ 

6  You  mean  to  warn  me  that  there  are  ways 
of  compelling  a  private  concern  to  become 
public  and  joint-stock  ?' 

'  Not  at  all,  Mr.  Hugo.  I  am  incapable  of 
such  a  hint.  I  am  sure  that  nothing  and 
nobody  could  force  you  against  your  will.  I 
was  only  mentioning  the  case  of  the  Coal 
Company.  I  could  mention  others.' 

t  '  Don't  trouble,  my  dear  sir.  Convey  my 
decision  to  Louis  Ravengar,  and  give  him  my 
compliments.  We  are  old  acquaintances.' 

'  You  are  ?'  The  solicitor  seemed  aston- 
ished in  his  imperturbable  way. 

'  We  are.' 

c  I  will  convey  your  decision  to  my 
clients.' 

Accepting  a  cigar,  Mr.  Polycarp  departed. 

Without  giving  himself  time  to  think,  Hugo 
went  straight  to  Department  42,  and  direct 
to  the  artist  in  hats.  She  stood  pale  and 
deferential  to  receive  him.  The  heat  was 
worse  than  ever. 


HUGO  EXPLAINS  HIMSELF        29 

'  Your  name  is  Payne,  I  think  ?'  he  began. 
(He  well  knew  her  name  was  Payne.) 

'  Yes,  sir.' 

Other  employes  in  the  trying-on  room 
looked  furtively  round. 

'  About  half-past  eleven  an  old  gentleman, 
with  white  moustache,  came  into  this  room, 
Miss  Payne.  You  remember  ?' 

'  Yes,  sir.' 

*  What  did  he  want  ?' 

*  He  was  inquiring  about  a  hat,  sir,'  she 
hurriedly  answered. 

*  For  a  lady  ?' 

*  Yes,  sir.' 

*  Thank  you.' 

And  he  hastened  back  to  his  central  office, 
and  breathed  a  sigh.  '  I  have  actually  spoken 
to  her,'  he  murmured.  '  How  charming  her 
voice  is  !' 

But  Miss  Payne's  physical  condition  deso- 
lated him.  If  she  was  so  obviously  exhausted 
at  12.30,  what  would  she  be  like  at  the  day's 
end?' 

*  I've  got  it !'  he  cried. 

He  seized  a  pen  and  wrote  :  '  Notice. — The 
public  are  respectfully  informed  that  this 
establishment  will  close  to-day  at  two  o'clock.' 

He  rang  a  bell,  and  a  messenger  appeared. 


30  HUGO 

'  Take  this  to  the  printing-office  instantly, 
and  tell  Mr.  Waugh  it  must  be  posted  through- 
out the  place  in  half  an  hour.' 

Shortly  after  two  o'clock  Sloane  Street  was 
amazed  to  witness  the  exodus  of  the  three 
thousand  odd.  The  closure  was  attributed 
to  a  whim  of  Hugo's  for  celebrating  some 
obscure  anniversary  in  his  life.  Many  hun- 
dreds of  persons  were  inconvenienced,  and 
the  internal  economy  of  scores  of  polite  homes 
seriously  deranged.  The  evening  papers 
found  a  paragraph.  And  Hugo  lost  perhaps 
a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  net.  But  Hugo 
was  happy,  and  he  was  expectant. 

At  ten  o'clock  that  night  a  youngish  man, 
extremely  like  Simon  Shawn,  was  brought  by 
Simon  into  Hugo's  presence  under  the  dome. 
This  was  Simon's  brother,  Albert  Shawn,  a 
member  of  Hugo's  private  detective  force. 

'  Sit  down,'  said  Hugo.     *  Well  ?' 

*  I  reckon  you've  heard,  sir,'  Albert  Shawn 
began  impassively,  *  the  yarn  that's  going  all 
round  the  stores.' 

*  I  have  not.' 

*  Everyone's  whispering,'  said  Albert  Shawn, 
gazing  carefully  at  his  boots,  *  that  Mr.  Hugo 
has  taken  a  kind  of  a  fancy  to  Miss  Payne.' 

Hugo  restrained  himself. 


HUGO  EXPLAINS  HIMSELF        31 

*  Heavens  !'   he  exclaimed,   with  a  clever 
affectation  of  lightness,   '  what  next  ?     I've 
only  spoken  to  the  chit  once.' 

*  Don't  I  know  it,  sir  !' 

'  Enough  of  that !  What  have  you  to 
report  ?' 

'  Miss  Payne  left  at  2.15,  whipped  round  to 
the  flats  entrance,  took  the  lift  to  the  top- 
floor,  went  into  Mr.  Francis  Tudor's  flat.' 

'What's  that  you  say?  Whose  flat?' 
cried  Hugo. 

*  Mr.  Francis  Tudor's,  sir.' 

Mr.  Tudor  was  famous  as  the  tenant  of  the 
suite  rented  at  two  thousand  a  year ;  he  had 
a  reputation  for  being  artistic,  sybaritic,  and 
something  in  the  inner  ring  of  the  City. 

*  Ah  !'  said  Hugo.     '  Perhaps  she  is  a  friend 
of  one  of  Mr.  Tudor's ' 

*  Servants,'  he  was  about  to  say,  but  the 
idea  of  Miss  Payne  being  on  terms  of  equality 
with  a  menial  was  not  pleasant  to  him,  and 
he  stopped. 

*  No,   sir,'    said  Albert   Shawn,   unmoved. 
4  She  is  not,  because  Mr.  Tudor  shunted  out 
all  his  servants  soon  afterwards.     Miss  Payne 
was  shown  into  his  study.     She  had  her  tea 
there,    and    her    dinner.     The    Hugo    half- 
guinea  dinner  was  ordered  late  by  telephone 


32  HUGO 

for  two   persons,   and  rushed  up   at   eight 
o'clock.' 

*  I    wonder    Mr.    Tudor    didn't    order    an 
orchestra  with  the  dinner,'  said  Hugo  grimly. 
It  was  a  sublime  effort  on  his  part  to  be  his 
natural  self. 

*  I  waited  for  Miss  Payne  to  leave,'  con- 
tinued Albert  Shawn.     *  That's  why  I'm  so 
late.' 

*  And  what  time  did  she  leave  ?' 

*  She  hasn't  left,'  said  Albert  Shawn. 


CHAPTER    IV 

CAMILLA 

HUGO  dismissed  Albert,  with  orders  to  con- 
tinue his  vigil,  and  then  he  rang  for  Simon. 

6  Do  you  think  I  might  have  some  tea  ?' 
he  asked. 

*  I  am  disposed  to  think  you  might,  sir,' 
said  Simon  the  cellarer.     *  It  is  eight  days 
since  you  indulged  after  dinner.' 

*  Bring  me  one  cup,  then,  poured  out.' 

He  was  profoundly  disturbed  by  Albert's 
news.  He  was,  in  fact,  miserable.  He  had 
a  physical  pain  in  the  region  of  the  heart.  He 
wished  he  could  step  off  Love  as  one  steps  off 
an  omnibus,  but  he  found  that  Love  resembled 
an  express  train  more  than  an  omnibus. 

*  Can  she  be  secretly  married  to  him  ?'  he 
demanded  half  aloud,  sipping  at  the  tea. 

The  idea  soothed  him  exactly  as  much  as 
it  alarmed  him. 

'  The  question  is,'  he  murmured  angrily, 

33  3 


34  HUGO 

*  am  I  or  am  I  not  an  ass  ?   ...    At  my 

age!' 

He  felt  vaguely  that  he  was  not,  that  he  was 
rather  a  splendid  and  Byronic  figure  in  the 
grip  of  tremendous  emotions. 

Having  regretfully  finished  the  tea,  he  un- 
locked a  bookcase,  and  picked  out  at  random 
a  volume  of  BoswelTs  '  Johnson.'  It  was  the 
modern  Oxford  edition — the  only  edition 
worthy  of  a  true  amateur — bound  by  Riviere. 
Like  all  wise  and  lettered  men,  Hugo  con- 
sulted Boswell  in  the  grave  crises  of  life,  and 
to-night  he  happened  upon  the  venerable 
Johnson's  remark :  '  Sir,  I  would  be  content 
to  spend  the  remainder  of  my  existence  driving 
about  in  a  post-chaise  with  a  pretty  woman.' 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed. 
'  In  the  whole  history  of  mankind,'  he  as- 
serted to  the  dome,  '  there  have  only  been  two 
really  sensible  men.  Solomon  was  one,  and 
Johnson  the  other.' 

He  restored  the  book  to  its  place,  and  sat 
down  to  the  piano-player,  and  in  a  moment 
the  overture  to  *  Tannhauser,"  that  sublime 
failure  to  prove  that  passion  is  folly,  filled  the 
vast  apartment.  The  rushing  violin  passages, 
and  every  call  of  Aphrodite,  intoxicated  his 
soul  and  raised  his  spirits  till  he  knew  with  the 


CAMILLA  35 

certainty  of  a  fully-aroused  instinct  that 
Camilla  Payne  must  be  his.  He  became 
optimistic  on  all  points. 

'  A  lady  insists  on  seeing  you,  sir,'  said 
Simon  Shawn,  intruding  upon  the  Pilgrims' 
Chant. 

'  She  may  insist,'  Hugo  answered  lightly. 
*  But  it  all  depends  who  she  is.  I'm ' 

He  stopped,  for  the  insisting  lady  had 
entered. 

It  was  Camilla. 

He  jumped  up.  Never  before  in  his 
career  had  he  been  so  astounded,  staggered, 
charmed,  enchanted,  dazzled,  and  completely 
silenced. 

*  Miss  Payne  ?'  he  gasped  after  a  prolonged 
pause. 

Simon  Shawn  effaced  himself. 
«  Yes,  Mr.  Hugo.' 

*  Won't  you  sit  down  ?' 

The  singular  prevalence  of  beautiful  women 
in  England  is  only  appreciated  properly  by 
Englishmen  who  have  lived  abroad,  and  these 
alone  know  also  that  in  no  other  country 
is  beauty  wasted  by  women  as  it  is  wasted 
in  England.  Camilla  was  beautiful,  and 
supremely  beautiful ;  she  was  tall,  well  and 
generously  formed,  graceful,  fair,  with  fine 

3—2 


36  HUGO 

eyes  and  fine  dark  chestnut  hair ;  her  abso- 
lutely regular  features  had  the  proud  Tenny- 
sonian  cast.  But  the  coldness  of  Tennysonian 
damsels  was  not  hers.  Whether  she  had 
Latin  blood  in  her  veins,  or  whether  Nature 
had  peculiarly  gifted  her  out  of  sheer  caprice, 
she  possessed  in  a  high  degree  that  inde- 
scribable demeanour,  at  once  a  defiance  and 
a  surrender,  a  question  and  an  answer,  a 
confession  and  a  denial,  which  is  the  universal 
weapon  of  women  of  Latin  race  in  the  battle 
of  the  sexes,  but  of  which  Englishwomen  seem 
to  be  almost  deprived.  '  I  am  Eve  !'  say  the 
mocking,  melting  eyes  of  the  Southern  woman, 
and  so  said  Camilla's  eyes.  No  man  could 
rest  calm  under  that  glance ;  no  man  could 
forbear  the  attempt  to  decipher  the  hidden 
secrecies  of  its  message,  and  no  man  could 
succeed  in  the  task. 

Hugo  felt  that  he  had  never  seen  this 
woman  before. 

And  he  might  have  been  excused  for  feeling 
so ;  for  instead  of  the  black  alpaca,  Camilla 
now  wore  a  simple  but  effectively  charming 
toilette  such  as  '  Hugo's  '  created  and  sold  to 
women  for  the  rapture  of  men  in  summer  twi- 
lights, and  over  the  white  dress  was  thrown 
a  very  rich  pearl-tinted  opera-cloak,  which 


CAMILLA  37 

only  partly  concealed  the  curves  of  the 
shoulders,  and  poised  aslant  on  the  glistening 
coiffure  was  the  identical  blue  hat  with  its  wide 
brims  that  had  visited  the  dome  seventeen 
hours  before.  The  total  effect  was  calculated, 
perfect,  overwhelming. 

'  I'm  sorry  to  disturb  you,  Mr.  Hugo,'  said 
Camilla,  throwing  back  her  cloak  on  the  left 
side  with  a  fine  gesture,  *  but  I  am  in  need  of 
your  assistance.' 

*  Yes  ?'  Hugo  whispered,  seating  himself. 
She  had  a  low  voice,  rare  in  a  blonde,  and 

it  thrilled  him.  And  she  was  so  near  him  in 
the  great  chamber  ! 

*  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  plot  I  am  in 
the  midst  of.     What  is  the  web  that  has 
begun  to  surround  me  ?' 

*  Plot  ?'  stammered  Hugo.     *  Web  ?' 
Her  eyes  flashed  scrutinizingly  on  his  face. 

'  You  have  a  kind  heart,'  she  said  ;  '  every- 
body can  see  that.  Be  frank.  Do  you  know,' 
she  asked  in  a  different  tone,  *  or  don't  you, 
that  you  spoke  very  gruffly  to  me  this 
morning  ?' 

4  Miss  Payne,'  he  began,  *  I  assure  you * 

*  I  thought  perhaps  you  didn't  know,'  she 
smiled   calmly.     '  But   you   did   speak   very 
gruffly.     Now,  I  have  taken  my  courage  in 


38  HUGO 

both  hands  in  order  to  come  to  you  to-night. 
I  may  have  lost  my  situation  through  it — I 
can't  tell.  Whether  I  have  lost  my  situation 
or  not,  I  appeal  to  you  for  candour.' 

*  Miss  Payne,'  said  Hugo,  *  it  distresses  me 
to  hear  you  speak  of  a  "  situation."  ' 

*  And  why  ?' 

*  You  know  why,'  he  answered.     *  A  woman 
as  distinguished  as  you  are  must  be  perfectly 
well  aware  how  distinguished  she  is,  and  per- 
fectly capable,  let  me  add,  of  hiding  her  dis- 
tinction from  the  common  crowd.     For  what 
purpose  of  your  own  you  came  into  my  shop, 
I  can't  guess.     But  necessity  never  forced 
you  there.     No  doubt  you  meant  to  avoid 
getting  yourself  talked  about ;  nevertheless, 
you  have  got  yourself  talked  about.' 

*  Indeed  !'     She  looked  at  him  sideways. 

*  Yes,'  Hugo  went  on  ;  *  several  thousands 
of  commonplace  persons  are  saying  that  I 
have  fallen  in  love  with  you.     Do  you  think 
it's  true,  this  rumour  ?' 

'  How  can  I  tell  you  ?'  said  she. 

'  Well,  it  is  true  !'  he  cried.  *  It's  doubly 
and  trebly  true !  It's  the  greatest  truth  in 
the  world  at  the  present  moment.  It  is  one 
of  those  truths  that  a  believer  can't  keep  to 
himself.'  He  paused,  expectant.  *  A  woman 


CAMILLA  39 

less  fine  than  you  would  have  protested 
against  this  sudden  avowal,  which  is  only  too 
like  me — too  like  Hugo.  You  don't  protest. 
I  knew  you  wouldn't.  I  knew  you  knew. 
You  asked  for  candour.  You  have  it.  I 
love  you.' 

*  Then,  why,'  she  demanded  firmly,  with  a 
desolating  smile — *  why  do  you  have  me  fol- 
lowed by  your  private  detective  ?' 

Hugo  was  caught  in  a  trap.  He  had  hesi- 
tated long  before  instructing  Albert  Shawn  to 
shadow  Camilla,  but  in  the  end  his  desire  for 
exact  knowledge  concerning  her,  and  his 
possession  of  a  corps  of  detectives  ready  to 
hand,  had  proved  too  much  for  his  scruples. 
He  had,  however,  till  that  day  discovered 
little  of  importance  for  his  pains — merely  that 
her  parents,  who  were  dead,  had  kept  a  small 
milliner's  shop  in  Edgware  Road,  that  her 
age  was  twenty-five,  that  she  had  come  to  his 
millinery  department  with  a  good  testi- 
monial from  an  establishment  in  Walham 
Green,  that  she  lived  in  lodgings  at  Fulham 
and  saw  scarcely  anyone,  and  that  she  had 
once  been  a  typewriter. 

*  The  fact  is ' 

He  stopped,  perceiving  that  the  *  fact  * 
would  not  do  at  all,  and  that  to  explain  to  the 


40  HUGO 

woman  you  love  why  you  have  spied  on  her 
is  a  somewhat  nice  operation. 

'  Is  that  the  way  you  usually  serve  us  ?' 
pursued  Camilla,  with  a  strange  emphasis  on 
the  word  '  us  '  which  maddened  him. 

'  The  fact  is,  Miss  Payne,'  he  said  boldly, 
sitting  down  as  soon  as  he  had  invented  the 
solution  of  the  difficulty,  '  you  will  not  deny 
that  this  afternoon  and  this  evening  you  have 
been  in  a  position  of  some  slight  delicacy. 
What  your  relations  are  with  Mr.  Francis 
Tudor  I  have  never  sought  to  inquire,  but  I 
have  always  doubted  the  bon&  fides  of  Mr. 
Francis  Tudor.  And  to-day  I  have  simply — 
if  I  may  say  so — watched  over  you.  If  my 
man  has  been  clumsy,  I  beg  your  forgiveness. 
I  beg  you  to  believe  in  my  deep  respect  for 
you.' 

The  plain  sincerity  of  his  accent  and  of  his 
gaze  touched  and  convinced  her.  She  looked 
at  her  feet,  white-shod  on  the  crimson  carpet. 

'  Ah !'  she  murmured,  as  if  to  herself, 
mournfully,  '  why  don't  you  ask  me  how  it 
is  that  I,  to  whom  you  pay  thirty-six  shillings 
a  week,  am  wearing  these  clothes  ?  Surely 
you  must  think  that  an  employe  who ' 

'  At  this  hour  you  are  not  an  employe,'  he 
interrupted  here.  '  You  visit  me  of  your  own 


CAMILLA  41 

free  will  to  demand  an  explanation  of  matters 
which  are  quite  foreign  to  our  business  rela- 
tions. I  give  it  you.  Beyond  that  I  permit 
myself  no  thoughts  except  such  as  any  man 
is  entitled  to  concerning  any  woman.  You 
used  the  word  "  plot "  when  you  came  in. 
What  did  you  refer  to  ?  If  Mr.  Tudor 
has '  He  could  not  proceed. 

*  As  I  left  Mr.  Tudor 's  flat  a  few  minutes 
since,'  said  Camilla  quietly,  producing  a 
revolver  from  the  folds  of  her  cloak,  '  I  picked 
up  this.  It  may  or  may  not  be  loaded. 
Perhaps  you  can  tell  me.' 

He  seized  the  weapon,  and  impetuously 
aimed  at  a  heavy  Chinese  gong  across  the 
room,  and  pulled  the  trigger  several  times. 
The  revolver  spoke  noisily,  and  the  gong 
sounded  and  swung. 

'  You  see  !'  he  exclaimed.  '  Pardon  the 
din.  I  did  it  without  thinking.' 

'  Did  you  call,  sir  ?'  asked  Simon  Shawn, 
appearing  in  the  doorway. 

Hugo  extirpated  him  with  a  look. 

'  How  cool  you  are  !'  he  resumed  to  Camilla, 
and  laid  down  the  revolver.  '  No,  you  aren't  i 
By  Jove,  you  aren't !  What  is  it  ?  What 
have  you  been  through  ?  What  is  this 
plot  ?  A  plot — in  my  building — and  against 


42  HUGO 

you  !  Tell  me  everything — everything  !  I 
insist.' 

'  Shall  you  believe  all  that  I  say  ?'  she 
ventured. 

'  Yes,'  he  said,  *  all.' 

He  saw  with  intense  joy  that  he  was  going 
to  be  friendly  with  her.  It  seemed  too  good 
to  be  true. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  STORY  AND   A  DISAPPEARANCE 

'  PERHAPS  I  ought  to  begin  by  informing  you/ 
said  Camilla  Payne,  '  that  I  have  known 
Mr.  Francis  Tudor  for  about  two  years. 
Always  he  has  been  very  nice  to  me.  Once 
he  asked  me  to  marry  him — quite  suddenly — 
it  was  a  year  ago.  I  refused  because  I  didn't 
care  for  him.  I  then  saw  nothing  of  him  for 
some  time.  But  after  I  entered  your  service 
here,  he  came  across  me  again  by  accident. 
I  did  not  know  until  lately  that  he  had  one  of 
your  flats.  He  was  very  careful,  very  polite, 
timid,  cautious — but  very  obstinate,  too.  He 
invited  me  to  call  on  him  at  his  rooms,  and 
to  bring  any  friends  I  liked.  Of  course,  it 
was  a  stupidity  on  his  part,  but,  then,  what 
else  could  he  do  ?  A  man  who  wants  to 
cultivate  relations  with  a  homeless  shopgirl 
is  rather  awkwardly  fixed.' 

*  I  wish  to  Heaven  you  would  not  talk  like 

43 


44  HUGO 

that,  Miss  Payne !'  said  Hugo,  interrupting  her 
impatiently. 

'  I  am  merely  telling  you  these  things  so 
that  you  may  understand  my  position,' 
Camilla  coldly  replied.  '  Do  you  imagine 
that  I  am  amusing  myself  ?' 

'  Go  on,  go  on,  I  beg,'  he  urged,  with  a 
gesture  of  apology. 

*  Naturally,  I  declined  the  invitation.   Then 
next  I  received  a  letter  from  him,  in  which 
he  said  that  unless  I  called  on  him,  or  agreed 
to  meet  him  in  some  place  where  we  could  talk 
privately  and  at  length,  he  should  kill  himself 
within   a  week.     And  he  added  that  death 
was  perhaps  less  to  him  than  I  imagined. 
I  believed  that  letter.     There  was  something 
about  it  that  touched  me.' 

'  And  so  you  decided  to  yield  ?' 

*  I  did  yield.     I  felt  that  if  I  was  to  trust 
him  at  all,  I  might  as  well  trust  him  fully, 
and  I  called  at  his  flat  this  afternoon  alone. 
He  was  evidently  astonished  to  see  me  at  that 
hour,  so  I  explained  to  him  that  you  had  closed 
early  for  some  reason  or  other.' 

'  Exactly,'  said  Hugo. 

'  He  insisted  on  giving  me  tea.  I  was 
treated,  in  fact,  like  a  princess  ;  but  during 
tea  he  said  nothing  to  me  that  might  not  have 


A  STORY  AND  A  DISAPPEARANCE    45 

been  said  before  a  roomful  of  people.  After 
tea  he  left  me  for  a  few  moments,  in  order,  as 
he  said,  to  give  some  orders  to  his  servants. 
Up  till  then  he  had  been  extremely  agitated, 
and  when  he  returned  he  was  even  more 
agitated.  He  walked  to  and  fro  in  that 
lovely  drawing-room  of  his — just  as  you  were 
doing  here  not  long  since.  I  was  a  little 
afraid.' 

'  Afraid  of  what  ?'  demanded  Hugo. 

'  I  don't  know — of  him,  lest  he  might  do 
something  fatal,  irretrievable ;  something— 
I  don't  know.  And  then,  being  alone  with 
him  in  that  palace  of  a  place  !  Well,  he 
burst  out  suddenly  into  a  series  of  statements 
about  himself,  and  about  his  future,  and  his 
intentions,  and  his  feelings  towards  me.  And 
these  statements  were  so  extraordinary  and  so 
startling  that  I  could  not  think  he  had  in- 
vented them.  I  believed  them,  as  I  had 
believed  in  the  sincerity  of  his  threat  to  kill 
himself  if  I  would  not  listen  to  him.' 

'  And  what  were  they— these  statements  ?' 
Hugo  inquired. 

Camilla  waved  aside  the  interruptions,  and 
continued  :  '  "  Now,"  he  said,  "  will  you 
marry  me  ?  Will  you  marry  me  now  ?" 

She   paused   and   glanced   at   Hugo,    who 


46  HUGO 

observed    that    her   eyes    were   filling    with 
tears. 

'  And  then  ?'  murmured  Hugo  soothingly. 

*  Then  I  agreed  to  marry  him.' 

And  with  these  words  she  cried  openly. 

4  If  anyone  had  told  me  beforehand,'  she 
resumed,  '  that  I  should  be  so  influenced  by  a 
man's — a  man's  acting,  I  would  have  laughed. 
But  I  was — I  was.  He  succeeded  completely.' 

'  You  have  not  said  what  these  extraordi- 
nary statements  were,'  Hugo  insisted. 

'  Don't  ask  me,'  she  entreated,  drying  her 
eyes.  '  It  is  enough  that  I  was  hoodwinked. 
If  you  have  had  no  hand  in  this  plot,  don't 
ask  me.  I  am  too  ashamed,  too  scornful  of  my 
credulity,  to  repeat  them.  You  would  laugh.' 

'  Should  I  ?'  said  Hugo,  smiling  gravely. 
*  What  occurred  next  ?' 

*  The  next  step  was  that  Mr.  Tudor  asked  me 
to  accompany  his  housekeeper  to  the  house- 
keeper's room,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the 
passage  from  the  drawing-room  I  was  to  dine 
with  him.     The  housekeeper  is  a  Mrs.  Dant, 
a  kind,  fat,  lame  old  woman,  and  she  produced 
this  cloak  and  this  hat,  and  so  on,  and  said 
that  they  were  for  me  !     I  was  surprised,  but  I 
praised  them  and  tried  them  on  for  a  moment. 
You  must  remember  that  I  was  his  affianced 


A  STORY  AND  A  DISAPPEARANCE    47 

wife.  I  talked  with  Mrs.  Dant,  and  prepared 
myself  for  dinner,  and  then  I  went  back  to 
the  drawing-room,  and  found  Mr.  Tudor 
ready  for  dinner.  I  asked  him  why  he  had 
got  the  clothes,  and  he  said  he  had  got  them 
this  very  morning  merely  on  the  chance  of 
my  accepting  his  proposal  out  of  pity  for  him. 
And  I  believed  that,  too.' 

There  was  a  silence. 

'  But  that  is  not  the  end  ?'  Hugo  encouraged 
her. 

'  Oh,'  she  exclaimed,  '  it  is  useless,  all  this 
story  !  And  the  episode  is  finished  !  When 
I  came  in  here  I  was  angry ;  I  suspect  you 
of  some  complicity.  But  I  suspect  you  no 
longer,  and  I  see  now  that  the  wisest 
course  for  a  woman  such  as  I  after  such  an 
adventure  is  to  be  mute  about  it,  and  to 
forget  it.' 

'  No,'  he  said  ;  c  you  are  wrong.  Trust  me. 
I  entreat.' 

Camilla  bit  her  lip. 

'  We  went  into  the  dining-room,  and  dinner 
was  served,'  she  recommenced,  c  and  there  I 
had  my  first  shock,  my  first  doubt,  for  one  of 
the  two  waiters  was  your  spy.' 

'  Shawn  !     My  detective  !' 

Hugo  was   surprised  to  find  that  Albert, 


48  HUGO 

almost  a  novice  in  his  vocation,  had  contrived 
to  be  so  insinuating. 

'  And  he  made  a  very  bad  waiter  indeed,' 
Camilla  added. 

'  I  regret  it,'  said  Hugo.  '  He  meant  well.' 
'  When  the  waiters  had  gone  I  asked  Mr. 
Tudor  if  they  were  his  own  servants.  He 
hesitated,  and  then  admitted  frankly  that 
they  were  not.  He  told  me  that  his  servants 
were  out  on  leave  for  the  evening.  "  You 
don't  mean  to  say  that  I  am  now  alone  with 
you  in  the  flat !"  I  protested.  No,"  he 
said  quickly.  "  Mrs.  Dant  is  always  in  her 
room  across  the  passage.  Don't  be  alarmed, 
dearest."  His  tone  reassured  me.  After 
coffee,  he  took  my  photograph  by  flashlight. 
He  printed  one  copy  at  once,  and  then,  after 
we  had  both  been  in  the  dark-room  together, 
he  returned  there  to  get  some  more  printing- 
paper.  While  he  was  absent  I  went  into 
the  housekeeper's  room  for  a  handkerchief 
which  I  had  left  there.  Mrs.  Dant  was  not 
in  the  room.  But  in  a  mirror  I  saw  the  reflec- 
tion of  a  man  hiding  behind  the  door.  I  was 
awfully  frightened.  However,  I  pretended 
to  see  nothing,  and  tried  to  hum  a  song.  I 
came  into  the  passage.  The  passage  window 
was  open,  and  I  looked  out.  Another  man 


A  STORY  AND  A  DISAPPEARANCE    49 

was  watching  on  the  balcony.  Of  course,  I 
saw  instantly  it  was  a  plot.  I — I ' 

'  Did  you  recognise  the  men,  then  ?'  Hugo 
asked. 

6  The  one  in  the  room  I  was  not  quite  sure 
of.  The  other,  on  the  balcony,  was  your 
detective,  I  think.  I  saw  him  disappear  in 
this  direction.' 

'  But  whatever  the  plot  was,  Shawn  had  no 
hand  in  it.' 

*  No,  no,  of  course  not !  I  see  now.  But 
the  other,  in  the  room  !  Ah,  if  you  knew  all 
my  history,  you  would  understand  better  ! 
I  felt  that  some  vengeance  was  out  against  me. 
I  saw  everything  clearly.  I  tried  to  keep  my 
head,  and  to  decide  calmly  what  I  ought  to  do. 
It  was  from  a  little  table  in  the  passage  that 
I  picked  up  the  revolver.  Then  I  heard 
hurried  footsteps  coming  through  the  drawing- 
room  towards  the  passage.  It  was  Mr. 
Tudor.  He  seemed  very  startled.  I  tried 
to  appear  unconcerned.  "  What  is  the 
matter  ?"  he  asked ;  he  had  gone  quite  pale. 
"  Nothing,"  I  said.  "  I  only  went  to  fetch 
a  handkerchief."  He  laughed  uneasily.  "  I 
was  afraid  you  had  thought  better  of  it  and 
run  away  from  me,"  he  said.  And  he  kissed 
me  ;  I  was  obliged  to  submit.  All  this  time 

4 


50  HUGO 

I  was  thinking  hard  what  to  do.  I  suggested 
we  should  go  on  to  the  roof  garden  for  awhile. 
He  objected,  but  finally  he  gave  way,  and  he 
brought  me  the  cloak  and  hat,  and  we  went 
to  the  garden  and  sat  down.  I  felt  safer 
there.  At  last  I  ventured  to  tell  him  that  I 
must  go  home.  Of  course,  he  objected  to  that 
too,  but  he  gave  way  a  second  time.  "  I 
will  just  speak  to  Mrs.  Dant,"  I  said.  "  You 
stay  here  for  three  minutes.  By  that  time  I 
shall  be  ready."  And  I  went  off  towards  the 
flat,  but  as  soon  as  I  was  out  of  his  sight  I 
turned  and  ran  here.  And  that's  all.' 

'  You  are  a  wonderful  creature,'  Hugo  mur- 
mured, looking  at  her  meditatively. 

'  Why  ?'  The  question  was  put  with  a  sort 
of  artless  and  melancholy  surprise. 

'  How  can  I  tell  ?'  said  Hugo.  *  How  can 
I  tell  why  Heaven  made  you  so  ?' 

She  laughed,  and  the  laugh  enchanted  him. 
He  had  studied  her  during  her  recital ;  he 
had  observed  her  continual  effort  to  use 
ordinary  words  and  ordinary  tones  like  a 
garment  to  hide  vivid  sensations  and  emotions 
which,  however,  shone  through  the  garment 
as  her  face  might  have  shone  through  a  veil. 
He  recalled  her  little  gestures,  inflections, 
glances — the  thousand  avenues  by  which  her 


A  STORY  AND  A  DISAPPEARANCE    51 

rich  and  overflowing  individuality  escaped 
from  the  prison  of  her  will,  and  impressed 
itself  on  the  rest  of  the  created  universe.  Her 
story  was  decidedly  singular,  and  as  mys- 
terious as  it  was  singular ;  that  something 
sinister  would  be  brought  to  light,  he  felt  sure. 
But  what  occupied  and  charmed  his  mind  was 
the  exquisite  fact  that  between  him  and  her 
relations  were  now  established.  The  story, 
her  past  danger,  even  her  possible  future 
danger — these  things  only  interested  him  in  so 
far  as  they  formed  the  basis  of  an  intimacy. 
He  exulted  in  being  near  her,  in  the  savour  of 
her  commanding  presence.  When  he  thought 
of  her  in  his  monstrous  shop,  wilting  in  the 
heat,  bowing  deferentially  to  fools,  martyr- 
izing her  soul  for  less  than  two  pounds  a  week, 
he  thought  of  kings'  daughters  sold  into 
slavery.  But  she  was  a  princess  now,  and 
for  evermore,  and  she  had  come  to  him  of  her 
own  free  will ;  she  had  trusted  him  ;  she  had 
invited  his  help  !  It  was  glorious  beyond  the 
dreams  of  his  passion. 

'  Come,'  he  said  feverishly,  c  show  me  how 
you  managed  to  get  to  my  dome.' 

And  he  threw  open  the  easternmost  window, 
and  she  stepped  with  him  out  on  to  the 
balcony. 

4—2 


52  HUGO 

They  looked  down  across  Hugo's  little 
private  garden,  into  the  blackness  of  the  court 
of  fountains,  whose  balconies  were  vaguely 
disclosed  here  and  there  by  the  reflection  from 
lit  interiors.  On  the  other  side  of  the  deep 
pit  of  the  court  was  the  vast  expanse  of  flat 
roof  containing  the  famous  roof  garden.  Amid 
dwarf  trees  and  festoons  of  coloured  lights, 
the  figures  of  men  and  women  who  counted 
themselves  the  cream  of  London  could  dimly 
be  seen  walking  about  or  sitting  at  tables  ; 
and  the  wild  strain  of  the  Tsigane  musicians, 
as  they  swayed  to  and  fro  in  their  red  coats 
on  the  bandstand,  floated  towards  the  dome 
through  the  heavy  summer  air.  In  the  near 
distance  the  fantastic  shapes  of  chimney- 
cowls  raised  themselves  against  the  starry  but 
moonless  sky,  and  miles  away  the  grandiose 
contours  of  a  dome  far  greater  than  Hugo's — 
the  dome  of  St.  Paul's — finished  the  prospect 
in  solemn  majesty.  It  was  a  scene  well 
calculated  to  intensify  a  man's  emotions, 
especially  when  a  man  stands  to  view  it,  as 
Hugo  stood,  on  a  lofty  balcony,  with  a  beauti- 
ful and  loved  woman  by  his  side. 

She  was  indicating  pathways,  as  well  as 
she  could,  when  they  both  saw  a  man  hurrying 
in  the  direction  of  the  dome  along  by  the  roof- 


A  STORY  AND  A  DISAPPEARANCE    53 

balustrade  of  the  court  of  fountains — the 
route  by  which  Camilla  herself  had  come. 
He  arrived  under  the  dome,  and  would  have 
disappeared  into  a  doorway  had  not  Hugo 
called  : 

'  Shawn,  I'm  here  !' 

'  I  was  just  coming  to  see  you,  sir,'  replied 
Albert  Shawn  in  a  loud  whisper,  as  he  climbed 
breathless  up  to  the  little  raised  garden 
beneath  the  dome. 

Camilla  withdrew  behind  a  curtain  of  the 
window. 

4  Well  ?'  Hugo  queried. 

*  She's  gone,   sir.     But  dashed  if  I  know 
where,  unless  she's  got  herself  lost  somewhere 
on  the  roof.' 

'  She  is  here,'  said  Hugo,  lowering  his  voice. 
*  And  it  appears  that  you  waited  very  clumsily 
at  that  dinner,  my  boy.  A  bad  disguise  is 
worse  than  none.  I  must  lend  you  Gaboriau's 
"  Crime  of  Orcival  "  to  read  ;  that  will  teach 
you.  Anything  else  to  tell  me  ?' 

*  I  went  back  to  the  balcony  entrance  of  the 
flat,'  the  youthful  detective  replied  humbly, 
looking  up  to  Hugo  in  the  window  of  the 
dome.     '  I  could  see  through  the  lacework  of 
the    blind ;    the    drawing-room    was    empty. 
The  French  window  was  open  an  inch  or  so, 


54  HUGO 

and  I  could  hear  a  clock  ticking  as  clear  as  a 
bell.  Then  Mr.  Tudor  toddled  up,  and  I  hid 
in  the  servants'  doorway.  Mr.  Tudor  went 
in  by  the  other  door,  and  out  I  popped  again 
to  my  post.  I  see  my  gentleman  stamping 
about  and  calling  "  Camilla  !  Camilla  !"  fit  to 
burst.  No  answer.  Then  he  picks  up  a  photo- 
graph off  a  table  and  kisses  it  smack — twice.' 

Camilla  stirred  behind  the  curtain. 

'  Then  he  goes  into  another  room,'  pro- 
ceeded Albert  Shawn,  '  and  lo  and  behold  ! 
another  man  comes  from  round  the  corner  of 
a  screen — a  man  much  older  than  Mr.  Tudor  ! 
And  Mr.  Tudor  runs  in  again,  and  these 
two  meet — these  two  do.  And  they  stare 
at  each  other,  and  Mr.  Tudor  says,  "  Hullo, 
Louis "  ' 

' 1  knew  it !'  The  cry  came  from  Camilla 
within  the  dome. 

'  What  ?'  demanded  Hugo,  turning  to  her 
and  ignoring  Shawn. 

'  It  was  Louis  Ravengar  whom  I  saw  hiding 
behind  the  door.  I  felt  all  the  time  that  it 
was  he  !' 

And  she  put  her  hands  to  her  face. 

'  Ravengar  !'  He  was  astounded  to  hear 
that  name.  What  had  she,  what  had  Tudor, 
to  do  with  Ravengar  ? 


A  STORY  AND  A  DISAPPEARANCE    55 

'  That  was  why  I  thought  you  were  in  the 
plot,  Mr.  Hugo,'  she  added. 

'  Me  ?     Why  ?' 

6  Can  you  ask  ?' 

Her  eyes  met  his,  and  it  was  his  that 
fell. 

*  I  have  no  relations  whatever  with  Raven- 
gar,  I  assure  you,'  he  said  gravely.     '  But,  by 
the  dagger  !  I'll  see  this  affair  to  the  end.' 
'  By  the  dagger  '  was  a  form  of  oath,  meaning- 
less yet  terrible  in  sound,  which  Hugo  em- 
ployed only  on  the  greatest  occasions.     He 
turned  sharply  to  the  window.     *  Anything 
else,  Shawn  ?' 

'  There  was  a  gust  of  wind  that  shut  the 
blessed  window,  sir.  I  couldn't  hear  any 
more,  so  I  came  to  report.' 

'  Go  to  the  front  entrance  of  the  flat  in- 
stantly,' Hugo  ordered  him.  *  I  will  watch  the 
balcony.' 

6  Yes,  sir.' 

Camilla  was  crouching  in  the  embrasure  of 
the  window.  Her  body  seemed  to  shake. 

'  There  is  nothing  to  fear,'  Hugo  soothed 
her.  '  Stay  here  till  I  return.'  And  he 
snatched  up  the  revolver. 

*  No,'   she  said,   straightening  herself ;   *  I 
must  go  with  you.' 


56  HUGO 

*  Better  not.' 

*  I  must  go  with  you,'  she  repeated. 

They  passed  together  along  the  railed  edge 
of  the  court  of  fountains  under  the  stars, 
skirted  the  gay  and  melodious  garden  behind 
the  trees  in  their  huge  wooden  boxes,  and  so 
came  to  a  second  quadrangle,  upon  whose 
highest  story  the  windows  of  Tudor' s  flat 
gave.  Descending  a  stairway  of  forged  iron 
to  the  balcony,  they  crept  forward  in  silence 
to  the  window  of  Tudor' s  drawing-room,  and, 
still  side  by  side,  gazed,  as  Shawn  had  done, 
through  the  fine  lacework  of  the  blind  into 
the  splendid  apartment. 

The  window  was  almost  at  a  corner  of  the 
room,  near  a  door ;  but  Hugo  had  a  perfect 
view  of  the  two  men  within,  and  one  was  as 
certainly  Louis  Kavengar  as  the  other  was 
Francis  Tudor.  They  were  gesticulating 
violently  and  angrily,  and  a  heavy,  ornate 
Empire  chair  had  already  been  overturned. 
The  dispute  seemed  to  be  interminable  ;  each 
moment  heralded  a  fight,  but  it  is  the  watched 
pot  that  never  boils.  Suddenly  Hugo  became 
aware  that  Camilla  was  no  longer  at  his  elbow, 
and  the  next  instant,  to  his  extreme  amaze- 
ment, he  saw  her  glide  into  the  room.  She 
had  removed  her  hat  and  cloak,  and  stood 


A  STORY  AND  A  DISAPPEARANCE    57 

revealed  in  all  her  beauty.  The  two  men 
did  not  perceive  her.  She  softly  opened  the 
window,  and  the  confused  murmur  of  voices 
reached  Hugo's  ear. 

'  Give  me  the  revolver,'  Camilla  whispered. 

And  her  whisper  was  such  that  he  passed 
the  weapon,  as  it  were  hypnotically,  to  her 
under  the  blind.  And  then  the  blind  slipped 
down,  and  he  could  see  no  more.  He  heard 
a  shot,  and  the  next  thing  was  that  the  re- 
volver was  pushed  back  to  him,  nearly  at  the 
level  of  the  floor. 

'  Wait  there !'  The  sound  of  her  voice, 
tense  and  authoritative,  came  through  the 
slit  of  the  window  and  thrilled  him.  '  All  is 
well  now,  but  I  will  send  you  a  message.' 

And  the  window  was  swiftly  closed  and  a 
curtain  drawn  behind  the  blind.  He  could 
hear  nothing. 

He  had  small  intention  of  obeying  her. 
4  She  must  have  gone  in  by  the  servants' 
entrance,'  he  argued.  *  I  should  have  seen 
her  if  she  had  tried  the  other.'  And  he  ran 
to  the  small  door,  but  it  was  shut  fast.  In 
vain  he  knocked  and  shook  the  handle  for 
several  minutes.  Then  he  hastened  to  the 
main  door  on  the  broad  balcony,  but  that  also 
was  impregnable. 


58  HUGO 

Should  he  break  a  pane  ? 

A  noise  far  along  the  balcony  attracted  him. 
He  flew  towards  it,  found  nothing  but  a  cat 
purring,  and  returned.  The  luscious  music  of 
the  Tsigane  band,  one  of  the  nine  orchestras 
which  he  owned,  reached  him  faintly  over  the 
edge  of  the  quadrangle. 

Then  he  decidedly  did  hear  human  footsteps 
on  the  balcony.  They  were  the  footsteps  of 
Shawn. 

'  She's  gone,  sir.  Took  the  lift,  and  whizzed 
off  in  Mr.  Tudor' s  electric  brougham  that  was 
waiting.' 

*  And  the  men  ?'  he  gasped. 

*  Seen  neither  of  them,  sir.     She  put  this 
note  in  my  hand  as  she  passed  me,  sir.' 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  LAPSE   FROM  AN  IDEAL 

'  IF  you  please,  sir,'  said  Simon  Shawn,  when 
he  brought  Hugo's  tea  the  next  morning,  '  I 
am  informed  that  a  man  has  secreted  himself 
on  the  summit  of  the  dome.' 

Hugo,  lying  moveless  on  his  back,  and 
ignoring  even  the  tea,  made  no  reply  to  this 
speech.  He  was  still  repeating  to  himself  the 
following  words,  which,  by  constant  iteration, 
had  assumed  in  his  mind  the  force  and  em- 
phasis of  italics  :  '  So  grateful  for  your  sympa- 
thetic help.  When  next  I  see  you,  if  there  is 
opportunity,  I  will  try  to  thank  you.  Mean- 
time, all  is  well  with  me.  Please  trouble  no 
more.  And  forget.'  Such  were  the  exact 
terms  of  the  note  from  Camilla  Payne  delivered 
to  him  by  Albert  Shawn.  Of  course,  he  knew 
it  by  heart.  It  was  scribbled  very  hastily  in 
pencil  on  half  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  it  bore  no 

59 


60  HUGO 

signature,  not  even  a  solitary  initial.  If  it 
had  not  been  handed  to  Albert  by  Camilla  in 
person,  Hugo  might  have  doubted  its  genuine- 
ness, and  might  have  spent  the  night  in  trans- 
gressing the  law  of  trespass  and  other  laws, 
in  order  to  be  assured  of  a  woman's  safety. 
But  under  the  circumstances  he  could  not 
doubt  its  genuineness.  What  he  doubted  was 
its  exact  import.  And  what  he  objected  to 
in  it  was  its  lack  of  information.  He  wished 
ardently  to  know  whether  Ravengar  and 
Tudor,  or  either  of  them,  had  been  wounded, 
and  if  so,  by  whose  revolver  ;  for  he  could  not 
be  certain  that  it  was  Camilla  who  had  fired. 
An  examination  of  the  revolver  which  he  and 
she  had  passed  from  hand  to  hand  had  shown 
two  chambers  undischarged.  He  wished 
ardently  to  know  how  she  had  contrived  to 
settle  her  account  with  Tudor,  and  yet  get 
away  in  Tudor's  brougham,  unless  it  was  by 
a  wile  worthy  of  the  diplomacy  of  a  Queen 
Elizabeth.  And  he  wished  ardently  to  under- 
stand a  hundred  and  one  other  things  con- 
cerning Camilla,  Tudor,  and  Ravengar,  and 
the  permutations  and  combinations  of  these 
three,  which  offered  apparently  insoluble 
problems  to  his  brain.  Nevertheless,  there 
was  one  assurance  which  seemed  to  him  to 


A  LAPSE  FROM  AN  IDEAL        61 

emerge  clearly  from  the  note,  and  to  atone  for 
its  vagueness — a  vagueness,  however,  per- 
fectly excusable,  he  reflected,  having  regard 
to  the  conditions  in  which  it  was  written — 
namely,  that  Camilla  intended  to  arrive,  as 
usual,  in  Department  42  that  morning.  What 
significance  could  be  attached  to  the  phrase, 
*  When  next  I  see  you,  if  there  is  opportunity,' 
unless  it  signified  that  she  anticipated  seeing 
him  next  in  the  shop  and  in  the  course  of 
business?  Moreover,  he  felt  that  it  would 
be  just  like  Camilla  to  start  by  behaving  to 
him  as  though  nothing  had  occurred.  (But 
he  would  soon  alter  that,  he  said  masterfully.) 
He  was,  on  the  whole,  happy  as  he  lay  in  bed. 
She  knew  that  he  loved  her.  They  had  been 
intimate.  In  three  hours  at  most  he  would 
see  her  again.  And  his  expectations  ran  high. 
Indeed,  she  had  already  begun  to  exist  in  his 
mind  as  his  life's  companion. 

Simon  coughed  politely  but  firmly. 

'  What's  that  you  say  ?'  Hugo  demanded ; 
and  Simon  repeated  his  item  of  news. 

'  Ha  !'  said  Hugo ;  '  doubtless  some  enthu- 
siast for  sunrises.' 

'  He  has  been  twice  perceived  in  the  little 
gallery  by  the  men  cleaning  the  roof  garden,' 
Simon  added. 


62  HUGO 

4  And  who  is  it  ?' 

4  His  identity  has  not  been  established,'  said 
Simon. 

4  Can't  you  moderate  your  language  a 
little,  Shawn  ?'  Hugo  asked,  staring  always 
absently  up  into  the  dome. 

4 1  beg  pardon,  sir.  I  have  spent  part  of 
the  night  with  Albert,  and  his  loose  speech 
always  drives  me  to  the  other  extreme,' 
Simon  observed,  repentant. 

4  Has  Albert  seen  the  burglar  ?' 

c  No,  sir,  if  it  is  a  burglar.' 

4  Well,'  said  Hugo,  4  he's  quite  safe  where  he 
is.  He  can't  get  down  except  by  that  door, 
can  he  ?'  pointing  to  a  masked  door,  which 
was  painted  to  represent  a  complete  set  in 
sixty  volumes  of  the  '  Acts  of  the  Saints.' 

4  No,  sir.' 

4  And  he  could  only  have  got  up  by  that 
door  ?'  Hugo  pursued. 

'  Yes,  sir.' 

4  Which  means  that  you  were  away  from 
your  post  last  night,  my  son.' 

4 1  was,  sir,'  Shawn  admitted  frankly. 
4  When  you  and  Albert  and  the  lady  ran  off  so 
quickly,  I  followed,  as  far  as  I  judged  ex- 
pedient— beg  pardon,  sir.  The  man  must 
have  slipped  in  during  my  absence.  I  re- 


A  LAPSE  FROM  AN  IDEAL        63 

member  I  noticed  the  masked  door  was  ajar 
on  my  return.  I  shut  and  locked  it.' 

'  That  explains  everything,'  said  Hugo. 
*  You  see  how  your  sins  find  you  out.' 

'  Yes,  sir.' 

*  I  say,  Shawn,'  Hugo  cried,  as  he  went  to 
his  bath,  '  talking  of  that  chap  up  above,  play 
me  the  Captives'  chorus  from  "  Fidelio."  ' 

'  It  is  not  in  the  repertoire,  sir,'  said  Simon, 
after  searching. 

'  Not  in  the  repertoire  !     Impossible  !' 
'  No,  sir.' 

*  Ah  well,  then,  let  us  have  the  Wedding 
March  from  "  Lohengrin."  ' 

*  With  pleasure,  sir.' 

But  Simon  was  unfortunate  that  morning. 
The  toilet  completed,  Hugo  came  towards 
him  swinging  the  gold  token,  the  bearer  of 
which  had  the  right  to  take  whatever  he  chose 
from  all  the  hundred  and  thirty-one  depart- 
ments of  the  stores  in  exchange  for  a  simple 
receipt. 

4 1  will  interview  the  burglar,'  said  Hugo. 
'  But  just  run  down  first  and  get  me  a  pair  of 
handcuffs.' 

In  ten  minutes  Simon  returned  crestfallen. 

*  We  do  not  keep  handcuffs,  sir,'  he  stam- 
mered. 


64  HUGO 

6  Not — keep !  What  nonsense  !  First 

you  tell  me  that  "  Fidelio  "  is  not  in  the  reper- 
toire, and  then  you  have  the  effrontery  to  add 
that  we  do  not  keep  handcuffs.  Shawn,  are 
you  not  aware  that  the  fundamental  principle 
of  this  establishment  is  that  we  keep  every- 
thing ?  If  we  received  an  order  for  a  herd  of 
white  elephants ' 

'  No  doubt  our  arrangement  with  Jamrach's 
would  enable  us  to  supply  them,  sir,'  Simon 
put  in  rapidly.  *  But  handcuffs  seem  to  be  a 
monopoly  of  the  State.' 

'  Evidently,  Shawn,  you  are  not  familiar 
with  the  famous  remark  of  Louis  the  Four- 
teenth.' 

*  I  am  not,  sir.' 

*  He  said,  "  Ueat,  c'est  moi."     Show  me  the 
catalogue.' 

Simon,  bearing  on  his  shoulders  at  that 
moment  the  sins  of  ten  managers,  scurried  to 
bring  an  immense  tome,  bound  in  crimson 
leather,  and  inscribed  in  gold,  c  Hugo,  General 
Catalogue.'  It  contained  nearly  two  thousand 
large  quarto  pages,  and  above  six  thousand 
illustrations.  Hugo  turned  solemnly  to  the 
exhaustive  index,  which  alone  occupied 
seventy  pages  of  small  type,  and,  running 
his  finger  down  a  column,  he  read  out, 


A  LAPSE  FROM  AN  IDEAL        65 

Handbells,  handbell-ringers,  handbills,  hand- 
embroidered  sheets,  handkerchiefs,  handles, 
handsaws,  hansoms,  Hardemann's  beetle 
powder,  hares,  haricot  beans  .  .  .' 

'  Lamentable  !'  he  ejaculated — '  lament- 
able !  You  will  tell  Mr. — Mr.  Banbury  this 
morning  to  procure  some  handcuffs,  assorted 
sizes,  at  once,  and  to  add  them  to  the — the — 
Explorers'  Outfit  Department.' 

*  Precisely,  sir.' 

'In  the  meantime  I  shall  have  to  ascend 
the  dome,  and  face  the  burglar  without  this 
necessary  of  life.  Give  me  the  revolver 
instead.' 


CHAPTER  VII 

POSSIBLE  ESCAPE  OF  SECRETS 

THE  top  of  the  dome  was  fashioned  into  a  kind 
of  belvedere,  with  a  small  circular  gallery. 
Hugo  emerged  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and 
saw  no  living  thing  ;  but  at  the  sound  of  his 
footstep  a  man  sprang  nervously  into  view 
round  the  curve  of  the  gallery,  and  fronted 
him. 

Hugo,  with  his  hands  still  on  either  rail  of 
the  staircase,  took  the  top  step,  gazing  the 
while  at  his  burglar,  first  in  wonder,  and  then 
with  a  capricious  abandonment  to  what  he 
considered  the  humour  of  the  situation.  He 
thought  of  Albert  Shawn's  account  of  the 
meeting  between  Francis  Tudor  and  his  visitor 
in  Tudor's  flat  on  the  previous  night,  and 
some  fantastic  impulse,  due  to  the  strain  of 
Welsh  blood  in  him,  caused  him  to  address  the 
man  as  Tudor  had  addressed  him  ; 

'  Hullo,  Louis  !' 

66 


POSSIBLE  ESCAPE  OF  SECRETS    67 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  came  the  reply 
in  a  tone  which  might  have  been  ferocious  or 
facetious : 

'  Well,  my  young  friend  ?' 

It  was  indeed  Louis  Ravengar.  Dis- 
hevelled, fatigued,  and  unstrung,  he  formed  a 
sinister  contrast  to  Hugo,  fresh  from  repose, 
cold  water  and  music,  and  also  to  the  spirit 
of  the  beautiful  summer  morning  itself,  which 
at  that  unspoilt  hour  seemed  always  to 
sojourn  for  a  space  in  the  belvedere.  The  sun 
glinted  joyously  on  the  golden  ornament  of  the 
dome,  and  on  Hugo's  smooth  hair,  but  it 
revealed  without  pity  the  stains  on  Raven- 
gar's  flaccid  collar  and  the  disorder  of  his 
evening  clothes  and  opera-hat. 

He  was  a  fairly  tall  man,  with  thin  gray 
hair  round  the  sides  of  his  head,  but  none  on 
the  crown  nor  on  his  face,  the  chief  character- 
istics of  which  were  the  square  jaw,  the 
extremely  long  upper  lip,  the  flat  nose,  and 
the  very  small  blue-gray  eyes.  He  looked 
sixty,  and  was  scarcely  fifty.  He  looked  one 
moment  like  a  Nonconformist  local  preacher 
who  had  mistaken  his  vocation  ;  but  he  was 
nothing  of  the  kind.  He  looked  the  next 
moment  like  a  good  hater  and  a  great*  scorner 
of  scruples  ;  and  he  was. 


68  HUGO 

These  two  men  had  not  exchanged  a  word, 
had  not  even  seen  each  other,  save  at  the 
rarest  intervals,  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 
century.  They  were  the  principals  in  a 
quarrel  of  the  most  vivid,  satanic,  and  in- 
curable sort  known  to  anthropological  science 
— the  family  quarrel — and  the  existence  of  this 
feud  was  a  proof  of  the  indisputable  truth 
that  it  sometimes  takes  less  than  two  to  make 
a  quarrel.  For,  though  Owen  Hugo  was  not 
absolutely  an  angel,  Ravengar  had  made  it 
single-handed. 

The  circumstances  of  its  origin  were  quite 
simple.  When  Louis  Ravengar  was  nine 
years  old,  his  father,  a  widower,  married  a 
widow  with  one  child,  aged  six.  That  child 
was  Hugo.  The  two  lads,  violently  different 
in  temperament — the  one  gloomy  and  secre- 
tive, the  other  buoyant  and  frank — with  no 
tie  of  blood  or  of  affection,  were  forced  by 
destiny  to  grow  up  together  in  the  same  house, 
and  by  their  parents  even  to  sleep  in  the  same 
room.  They  were  never  apart,  and  they  loathed 
each  other.  Louis  regarded  young  Owen  as 
an  interloper,  and  acted  towards  him  as  boys 
and  tigers  will  towards  interlopers  weaker 
than  themselves.  The  mischief  was  that 
Owen,  in  course  of  years,  became  a  great 


POSSIBLE  ESCAPE  OF  SECRETS    69 

favourite  with  his  step-father.  This  roused 
Louis  to  a  fury  which  was  the  more  dangerous 
in  that  Owen  had  begun  to  overtake  him  in 
strength,  and  the  fury  could,  therefore,  find 
no  outlet.  Then  Owen's  mother  died,  and 
Ravengar,  senior,  married  again — a  girl  this 
time,  who  soon  discovered  that  the  household 
in  which  she  had  planted  herself  was  far  too 
bellicose  to  be  comfortable.  She  abandoned 
her  husband,  and  sought  consolation  and 
sympathy  with  another  widower,  who  also 
was  blessed  with  offspring.  Such  is  the 
foolishness  of  women.  You  cannot  cure  a 
woman  of  being  one.  But  it  must  be  said  in 
favour  of  the  third  Mrs.  Ravengar  and  her 
consoler  that  they  conducted  their  affair  with 
praiseworthy  attention  to  outward  decency. 
She  went  to  America  by  one  steamer,  and 
purchased  a  divorce  in  Iowa  for  two  hundred 
dollars.  He  followed  in  the  next  steamer, 
and  they  were  duly  united  in  Minneapolis. 
Meanwhile,  the  Ravengar  household,  left  to 
the  ungoverned  passions  of  three  males,  be- 
came more  and  more  impossible,  and  at  length 
old  Ravengar  expired.  In  his  will  he  stated 
that  it  was  only  from  a  stern  sense  of  justice 
that  he  divided  his  considerable  fortune  in 
equal  shares  between  Louis  and  Owen.  Had 


70  HUGO 

he  consulted  his  inclination,  he  would  have 
left  one  shilling  to  Louis,  and  the  remainder 
to  Owen,  who  alone  had  been  a  true  son  to 
him. 

It  was  a  too  talkative  will.  Testators,  like 
politicians,  should  never  explain. 

Louis,  who  got  as  a  favour  half  the  fortune 
of  which  the  whole  was,  in  his  opinion,  his  by 
right,  was  naturally  exasperated  in  the  highest 
degree  by  the  terms  of  the  indiscreet  testa- 
ment, and  on  the  day  of  the  funeral  he  parted 
from  the  son  of  his  step-mother,  swearing,  in 
a  somewhat  melodramatic  manner,  that  he 
would  be  revenged.  Hugo  was  then  twenty- 
one,  and  for  twenty-five  years  he  had  waited 
in  vain  for  symptoms  of  the  revenge. 

And  now  they  met  again,  in  the  truest 
sense  strangers.  And  each  had  a  reason  for 
humouring  the  other,  for  each  wanted  to 
know  what  the  other  had  to  do  with  Camilla 
Payne. 

'  So  you're  determined,  Louis,'  said  Hugo 
lightly,  '  to  bring  me  to  my  knees  about  the 
transfer  of  my  business  to  a  limited  company, 
eh?' 

'  What  on  earth  do  you  mean,  man  ?' 
asked  Ravengar,  whose  voice  was  always 
gruff. 


. 


POSSIBLE  ESCAPE  OF  SECRETS    71 

*  I  refer  to  Poly  carp's  visit  yesterday.' 

'  I  know  nothing  of  it,'  said  Ravengar 
slowly,  looking  across  the  wilderness  of  roofs. 

6  Then  why  are  you  here,  Louis  ?  Is  your 
revenge  at  last  matured  ?' 

Ravengar  controlled  himself,  and  glanced 
round  as  if  for  unseen  aid  in  a  forlorn  enter- 
prise. 

'  Owen,'  he  said,  moved,  '  I'm  here  because 
I  need  your  help.  I  won't  say  anything 
about  the  past.  I  know  you  were  always 
good-natured.  And  you've  worn  better  than 
I  have.  I  need  your  help  in  a  matter  of 
supreme  importance  to  me.  I  became  aware 
last  night  that  you  and  your  men  were  inter- 
ested in  the  proceedings  at  Tudor' s  flat.  I 
ran  here,  meaning  to  see  you.  There  was  no 
one  in  the  big  circular  room  downstairs,  and 
no  one  at  the  entrance.  Then  I  saw  your 
servant  coming,  and  I  retreated  through  the 
door.  I  wished  my  presence  to  be  known 
only  to  you.  The  door  was  locked  on  me.  I 
knocked  in  vain.  Then  I  stumbled  up  the 
stairs,  and  found  myself  out  here.  I  wanted 
to  calm  myself,  and  here  I  remained.  I  knew 
your  habit  of  coming  up  here  at  early  morn- 
ing. That  is  the  whole  explanation  of  my 
presence.' 


72  HUGO 

Hugo  nodded. 

' 1  guessed  as  much,'  he  said.  '  I  will  help 
you  if  I  can.  But  first  tell  me  what  happened 
in  the  flat  last  night  after  Miss  Payne  entered 
while  you  and  Tudor  were  quarrelling.  She 
fired  on  you  ?' 

'No,'  said  Ravengar;  'I  believe  she  would 
have  done.  It  was  Tudor  who  drew  a  re- 
volver and  fired.  Had  I  had  my  own 

But  I  had  laid  it  on  a  table,  like  a  fool,  and 
it  disappeared.' 

'  Is  not  this  it  ?'  asked  Hugo,  producing 
Camilla's  weapon. 

Ravengar  nodded,  amazed. 

1 1  thought  so,'  Hugo  said,  and  returned  it 
to  his  pocket.  c  Were  you  wounded  ?' 

6  It  was  nothing.  A  scratch  on  the  wrist. 
See  !  But  I  left.  She — she  ordered  me  to. 
And  I  saw  I  had  no  chance.  I  came  out  by 
the  principal  door  on  the  balcony  while  you 
were  struggling  with  the  servants'  door.' 

'  Wait  a  moment,'  Hugo  put  in.  c  Tudor 
knew  you  were  hiding  in  the  flat  ?' 

*  Not  much  !'  exclaimed  Ravengar.  *  I 
dropped  on  him  like  something  out  of  the 
sky.  It  cost  me  some  trouble  to  get  in.  I 
had  a  silly  old  housekeeper  to  dispose  of.' 

Hugo's  heart  fell. 


POSSIBLE  ESCAPE  OF  SECRETS    73 

*  Great  heavens  !'  he  sighed. 

'  Why  ?     What's  the  matter  ?' 

'  Nothing.  But  tell  me  what  you  wanted 
to  get  into  the  flat  for  at  all.  What  is  there 
between  you  and  Tudor  ?' 

*  Man  !  he's  taken  Camilla  from  me  !'     The 
accents  of  rage  and  despair  were  in  Ravengar's 
voice  as  he  uttered  these  words.     *  He's  taken 
her  from  me  !     She  was  my  typewriter,  you 
know.     I  fell  in  love  with  her.     We  were 
engaged !' 

Hugo  was  startled  for  a  moment ;  then  he 
smiled  bitterly  and  incredulously.  It  seemed 
too  monstrous  and  absurd  that  Camilla  should 
have  betrothed  herself  to  this  forbidding,  ugly, 
ageing,  and  terrible  man. 

'  You  were  engaged  ?  Never !  Perhaps  you 
aren't  aware  that  she  was  engaged  to  Tudor  ?' 

*  I  tell  you  we  were  engaged.' 

*  She  accepted  you  ?' 

'  Why  not  ?     I  meant  well  by  the  girl.' 

*  And  then  she  disappeared  ?' 
Hugo  spoke  with  a  certain  cynicism. 

*  How  do  you  know  ?'  Ravengar  demanded 
angrily. 

*  I  only  guess.' 

*  Well,  she  did.     I  can't  imagine  why.     I 
meant  well  by  her.     And  the  next  thing  is,  I 


74  HUGO 

find  her  working  in  your  shop,  and  in  the 
arms  of  that  scoundrel,  Tudor.'  He  hesitated, 
and  then,  as  he  proceeded,  his  tones  softened 
to  an  appeal.  '  Owen,  why  were  you  watch- 
ing last  night  ?  I  must  know.  It's  an  affair 
of  life  or  death  to  me.' 

Hugo  did  not  believe  most  of  Ravengar's 
story,  and  he  perceived  the  difficulty  of  his 
own  position  and  the  necessity  for  caution. 

'  I  was  watching  because  Miss  Payne 
thought  herself  in  some  mysterious  danger,' 
he  said. 

'  She  came  to  me,  as  you  have  done,  to 
ask  my  help.  And  I  won't  hide  from  you 
that  it  was  she  herself  who  informed  me 
definitely  that  Tudor  had  invited  her  to 
marry  him,  and  that  she  had  consented.' 

'  She  shall  not  marry  him  !'  cried  Ravengar, 
exasperated. 

'  You  are  right,'  said  Hugo.  '  She  shall 
not.  I  have  yet  to  be  convinced  even  that 
he  meant  to  marry  her.' 

.  '  The  rascal  !  He  and  I  had  business  rela- 
tions for  several  years  before  I  discovered 
who  he  was.  Of  course,  you  know  ?' 

'  Indeed  I  don't,'  said  Hugo,  '  if  he  isn't 
Francis  Tudor.' 

'  He  has   as   much  right  to  the  name  of 


POSSIBLE  ESCAPE  OF  SECRETS    75 

Tudor  as  you  have  to  the  name  of  Hugo,' 
Ravengar  sneered.  '  He  is  the  son  of  the 
man  who  dishonoured  my  father's  name  by 
pretending  to  marry  that  woman  in  Minne- 
apolis. Even  if  I  hated  my  father,  I've  no 
cause  to  love  that  branch  of  our  complicated 
family  connections.' 
Hugo  whistled. 

*  I  did  not  think  there  was  so  much  money 
there,'  he  said  at  length. 

*  There    wasn't.      The   fellow    came    into 
twenty  thousand  two  years  ago,  and  he  has 
never  earned  a  cent.' 

'  Yet  he's  living  at  the  rate  of  five  thousand 
a  year  at  least.' 

'  It's  like  him  !'  R/avengar  snorted.  *  It's 
like  him  !' 

*  Perhaps    he    can't    help    it,'    Hugo    said 
queerly.     '  Everyone  isn't  like  you  and  me.' 

'  He  can  help  robbing  me  of  my  future 
wife!' 

*  But  she  left  you  of  her  own  accord.' 

*  Owen,  she  must  marry  me.     It  is  essential. 
You    must    bring    your    influence    to    bear,' 
Ravengar  burst  out  wildly.     '  She  must  be 
my  wife  !' 

'  My  dear  fellow,'  Hugo  protested  calmly, 
*  what  are  you  dreaming  of  ?  I  have  no 


76  HUGO 

influence.  You  talk  like  a  man  at  his  wits' 
end.' 

There  was  a  silence. 

'  I  am  a  man  at  his  wits'  end,'  Ravengar 
murmured,  half  sadly.  '  I  trusted  that  girl. 
She  knows  all  my  secrets.' 

'  What  secrets  ?'  asked  Hugo,  struck  by 
the  phrase. 

'  My  business  secrets,  of  course.  What 
else  do  you  fancy  ?' 

'  My  fancy  is  too  active,'  said  Hugo,  with 
careful  casualness.  6  It  runs  away  with  me. 
I  was  thinking  of  other  sorts  of  secrets,  and 
of  that  curious  principle  of  English  law  that 
a  wife  can't  give  evidence  against  her  hus- 
band. .  .  .  You  must  pardon  my  fancy,' 
he  added. 

*  Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  my  eager- 
ness to  marry  Camilla  Payne  is  in  order  to 
prevent  her  from  being  able  to ' 

'  No,  Louis  ;  I  mean  to  insinuate  nothing. 
Can't  you  see  a  joke  ?' 

*  I    cannot,'    said    Ravengar.     *  Not    that 
variety  of  joke.' 

'  The  appreciation  of  humour  was  never  your 
strong  point.' 

Something  in  Hugo's  manner  made  Raven- 
gar  spring  forward ;  then  he  checked  himself. 


POSSIBLE  ESCAPE  OF  SECRETS     77 

'  Owen,'  he  entreated,  *  don't  let's  quarrel 
again.  I  beg  you  to  help  me.  Help  me,  and 
I'll  promise  never  to  interfere  with  you  in 
your  business — I'll  swear  it.' 

'  Then  it  was  you,  after  all,  that  instructed 
Polycarp  ?' 

Ravengar  gave  an  affirmative  sign. 

'  I  meant  either  to  get  hold  of  this  place  or 
to  ruin  you.  Remember  what  I  suffered — in 
the  old  days.  .  .  .  You  see  I'm  frank  with 
you.  Help  me.  We're  neither  of  us  grow- 
ing younger.  I'm  mad  for  that  girl,  and  I 
must  have  her.' 

Hugo  put  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  and 
consulted  his  toes.  This  semi-step-brother  of 
his  somehow  aroused  his  compassion. 

*  No,  Louis,'  he  said ;  *  I  can't.' 
'  You  hate  me  ?' 

'  Not  a  bit.'  , 

'  Do  you  think  I'm  too  old  to  marry,  or 
what  is  it  ?' 

*  It's  just  like  this,   Louis,   my  friend :  I 
have  every  intention  of  marrying  Miss  Payne 
myself.' 

'  You  !  .  .  .     Ah  !  ...     Indeed  !' 
'  I  have  so  decided.     And  when  I  decide, 
the  thing  is  as  good  as  done.' 

*  And  that's  why  you  were  watching  last 


78  HUGO 

night !  Good  !  Oh,  good  !  Only  I  may  as 
well  inform  you,  Owen,  that  if  Camilla  Payne 
marries  anyone  but  me,  there  will  be  murder. 
And  no  ordinary  murder,  either  !' 

Hugo  took  a  turn  in  the  gallery.  He  felt 
genuinely  sorry  for  the  gray  and  desperate 
man,  driven  by  the  intensity  of  emotion  to 
utterances  which  were  merely  absurd. 

4  Louis,'  he  remarked,  with  a  melancholy 
kindliness  of  tone,  c  fate  has  a  grudge  against 
us  two.  It  ruined  our  youth,  and  now  it's 
embroiling  us  once  more.  Can't  we  both  be 
philosophical  ?  Can't  we  contrive  to  look  at 
the  thing  in  a ' 

*  Enough  !'  Ravengar  almost  yelled.    *  You 

always  talked  that  kind  of  d d  nonsense, 

you   did  !     Unless  you   can   arrange   to   say 
you'll  give  her  up,  you  may  as  well  hold  your 
tongue.' 

6  Very  well,'  said  Hugo,  Til  hold  my 
tongue.' 

'  That's  all,  then  ?' 

*  Quite  all.' 

*  I  suppose  I  can  go  ?     You'll  let  me  pass  ? 
You'll  not  exercise  your  right  to  treat  me  as 
a  burglar  ?' 

6  There  are  the  stairs.  Pass  Shawn  boldly. 
He  is  terrible,  but  he  will  not  eat  you.' 


POSSIBLE  ESCAPE  OF  SECRETS    79 

'  Thanks.' 

*  And  that  is  the  unrivalled  company  pro- 
moter !  And  this  is  life  !'  Hugo  meditated 
when  he  was  alone  on  the  dome. 

He  leaned  over  the  railing  of  the  gallery, 
and  watched  his  legions  gathering  for  the 
day's  battle. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ORANGE-BLOSSOM 

SOME  two  hours  later  Hugo  was  in  one  qf  the 
common  rooms  devoted  to  the  leisure  and 
diversion  of  the  legions  in  the  upper  basement : 
a  large  and  bright  apartment,  ornamented 
with  bookcases,  wicker  chairs,  and  reproduc- 
tions of  all  that  was  most  uplifting  in  graphic 
art.  It  was  the  domain  of  the  ladies  engaged 
in  Departments  30  to  45,  and  was  managed 
by  an  elected  committee  of  their  number. 
Affixed  to  the  walls,  in  and  out  among  the 
specimens  of  graphic  art,  were  quite  a  lot  of 
little  red  diamond  squares,  containing  in 
white  the  words,  '  Do  it  now,'  in  excessively 
readable  letters.  A  staff  notice  about  the 
early  closing  of  the  previous  day  had  been 
pinned  up  near  the  door,  and  printed  informa- 
tion relating  to  a  trip  to  the  Isle  of  Man, 
balloting  for  the  use  of  motor-cars  on  Sundays, 
and  a  gratis  book  entitled  '  Human  Nature  in 

80 


ORANGE-BLOSSOM  31 

Shoppers,'  were  also  prominent.  Above  the 
fireplace  was  a  fine  mirror,  and  Hugo  was 
personally  engaged  in  pasting  on  the  mirror  a 
fine  and  effective  poster,  which  ran  as  follows  : 

*  Interesting.  Last  year  the  sales  of  the 
Children's  Boot  and  Shoe  Department  sur- 
passed the  sales  of  the  Ladies'  Ditto  by  £558. 
In  the  first  half  of  this  year,  on  the  contrary, 
the  sales  of  the  Ladies'  Boot  and  Shoe  Depart- 
ment have  surpassed  the  sales  of  the  Children's 
Ditto  by  £25.  Great  credit  is  due  to  the  staff 
of  the  L.  B.  and  S.  D.  But  will  the  staff  of  the 
C.  B.  and  S.  D.  allow  themselves  to  be  thus 
wiped  out  ?  That  is  the  question,  and  Mr. 
Hugo  will  watch  for  the  answer.  Managers' 
Council,  July  10th.' 

Hugo,  as  the  supreme  head  of  Hugo's,  had 
organized  his  establishment  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  leave  no  regular  duties  for  himself,  con- 
formably to  the  maxim  that  a  well-managed 
business  is  a  business  which  runs  smoothly 
and  efficiently  when  the  manager  is  not 
managing,  and  to  that  other  maxim  that  the 
highest  aim  of  the  competent  manager  should 
be  to  make  himself  unnecessary.  Hence  he 
was  perfectly  at  liberty  to  be  wayward  and 
freakish  in  his  activities  from  time  to  time. 
And  this  happened  to  be  one  of  his  wayward 


82  HUGO 

and  freakish  mornings.  There  were,  how- 
ever, few  young  women  in  the  common  room 
to  behold  his  aberration,  for  the  hour  was 
within  two  minutes  of  nine,  and  at  nine  o'clock 
the  latest  of  the  legionaries  was  supposed  to 
be  at  her  post.  Three  girls  who  were  being 
hastily  served  with  glasses  of  milk  by  a  pink- 
aproned  waitress  politely  feigned  not  to  see 
him.  Then  another  girl  ran  in,  and  she,  too, 
had  to  pretend  that  the  spectacle  of  Hugo 
pasting  posters  on  mirrors  was  one  of  the 
most  ordinary  in  life.  Hugo  glanced  at  this 
last  comer  in  the  mirror,  and  sighed  a  secret 
disappointment. 

The  interview  with  Louis  Ravengar  had 
left  him  less  perturbed  than  might  be  imagined 
— at  any  rate,  as  regards  Ravengar' s  own 
share  in  what  had  occurred  and  what  was  to 
occur.  He  was  inclined  to  leave  Ravengar 
out  of  the  account,  and  to  put  the  greater 
part  of  his  hysterical  appeals  and  threats 
down  to  the  effect  of  a  sleepless  and  highly 
unusual  night.  That  Ravengar  was  abso- 
lutely sincere  in  his  desire  to  marry  Camilla 
he  did  not  doubt,  and  he  fully  shared  the 
frenzied  man's  determination  that  Camilla 
should  not  marry  Francis  Tudor.  But  beyond 
this  Hugo  did  not  go.  He  certainly  did  not 


ORANGE-BLOSSOM  83 

go  so  far  as  to  believe  that  Camilla  had  ever 
formally  engaged  herself  to  Ravengar.  He 
thought  it  just  possible  that  Ravengar  might 
have  committed  a  crime,  or  several  crimes, 
and  that  Camilla  might  have  knowledge  of 
them,  but  the  question  whether  Ravengar 
was  or  was  not  a  criminal  appeared  to  him 
to  be  a  little  off  the  point. 

The  unique  point  was  his  own  prospects 
with  Camilla.  It  may  be  said  that  he  felt 
capable  of  shielding  her  from  forty  Raven- 
gars. 

He  had  torn  prudence  to  shreds,  and 
stamped  on  it,  that  morning,  and  had  gone 
down  boldly  and  directly  to  Department  42 
at  a  quarter  to  nine,  in  order  to  meet  Camilla. 
And  she  had  not  then  arrived.  He  had  then 
conceived  the  idea  of,  and  the  excuse  for,  a 
visit  to  the  common  room,  through  which 
every  assistant  was  obliged  to  pass  on  her 
way  to  the  receipt  of  custom.  In  the  whole 
history  of  Hugo's  a  poster  had  never  before 
been  known  to  be  posted  on  a  mirror,  which 
is  utterly  the  wrong  place  for  a  poster,  but 
Hugo  had  chosen  the  mirror  as  the  field  of 
his  labours  solely  that  he  might  surrepti- 
tiously observe  every  soul  that  entered  the 
room. 

6—2 


84  HUGO 

The  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  struck 
nine,  and  the  last  assistant  had  fled,  and 
Hugo  was  left  alone  with  the  pink-aproned 
waitress,  who  was  collecting  glasses  on  a 
tray. 

*  Has  Miss  Payne  come  this  morning  ?'  he 
asked  casually  of  the  girl,  patting  the  poster 
like  an  artist  absorbed  in  his  work. 

It  was  a  reckless  question.  He  well  knew 
that  in  half  an  hour  the  whole  basement 
would  be  aware  that  Mr.  Hugo  had  asked 
after  Miss  Payne,  but  he  scorned  the  whole 
basement. 

*  Miss  who,  sir  ?' 

*  Miss  Payne,  of  the  millinery  department.' 

*  A  tall  young  lady,  sir  ?' 
'Yes.'  ' 

'  With  chestnut  hair  ?' 

*  Now  you  have  me,'  he  lied. 

*  I  fancy  I  know  who  you  mean,  sir ;  and 
now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  don't  think  she 
has.' 

The  waitress  spoke  in  an  apologetic  tone, 
and  looked  at  the  clock  with  an  apologetic 
look.  She  was  no  fool,  that  waitress. 

'  Thank  you.' 

As  he  left  the  room  Albert  Shawn  entered 
by  the  other  door,  and,  perceiving  nobody 


ORANGE-BLOSSOM  86 

but  the  waitress,  kissed  the  waitress,  and 
was  kissed  by  her  heartily. 

Hugo's  deportment  was  debonnair,  but  his 
heart  had  seriously  sunk.  Just  as  he  had 
before  been  quite  sure  that  Camilla  would 
come  as  usual,  now  he  was  quite  sure  that 
she  would  not  come  as  usual.  Ever  since  he 
had  learnt  from  Ravengar  that  Tudor  had 
been  ignorant  of  Ravengar' s  presence  in  the 
flat,  and  that  Ravengar  had  had  to  c  dispose 
of '  the  housekeeper,  a  horrid  suspicion  had 
lurked  at  the  back  of  his  mind,  and  now  this 
suspicion  sprang  out  upon  his  hopes  of 
Camilla's  arrival,  and  fairly  strangled  them. 
And  the  suspicion  was  that  Camilla  had  mis- 
judged Francis  Tudor,  that  his  intentions  had 
throughout  been  perfectly  honourable,  and 
that  on  her  return  to  the  flat  he  had  quickly 
convinced  Camilla  of  this. 

In  which  case,  where  did  he,  Hugo,  come 
in  ? 

As  for  the  terms  of  the  note,  he  perceived 
that  he  had  interpreted  them  in  a  particular 
way  because  he  wished  to  interpret  them  in  a 
particular  way. 

He  ascended  in  the  direction  of  Depart- 
ment 42.  Perhaps,  after  all,  she  had  escaped 
his  vigilance,  and  was  at  her  duties. 


86  HUGO 

On  the  way  thither  he  was  accosted  by  a 

manager.      / 
'  Mr.  Hugo.' 
6  Well,  Banbury  ?' 

*  I  telephoned  to  New  Scotland  Yard,  but 
they  refused  any  information.     However,  I've 
got  a  pair  from  the  nearest  police-station.      I 
shall  order  our  blacksmiths  to  make  a  dozen 
pairs  to  pattern.    They  will  be  in  next  month's 
catalogue.' 

*  I  congratulate  you,  Banbury.' 

And  he  passed  on.  The  early-rising  cus- 
tomers were  beginning  to  invade  the  galleries, 
the  cashiers  in  their  confessional-boxes  were 
settling  themselves  in  their  seats,  faultless 
shopwalkers  were  giving  a  final  hitch  to  their 
lovely  collars,  and  the  rank-and-file  were  pre- 
paring to  receive  cavalry.  The  vast  machine 
had  started,  slowly  and  deliberately,  as  an 
express  engine  starts.  And  already  the  heat, 
as  yesterday,  was  formidable.  But  she  would 
not  suffer  to-day ;  she  was  not  in  Depart- 
ment 42. 

He  went  further  and  further,  aimlessly 
penetrating  to  the  very  heart  of  the  jungle 
of  departments.  He  had  glimpses  of  depart- 
ments that  he  had  not  seen  for  weeks.  At 
length  he  came  to  the  verdant  and  delicious 


ORANGE-BLOSSOM  87 

Flower  Department  (hot-house  branch),  and 
by  chance  he  caught  a  word  which  brought 
him  to  a  standstill. 

'  What's  that  ?'  he  asked  sharply,  of  a 
salesman  in  white. 

'  Order  for  orange-blossom,  sir.  A  single 
sprig  only.  Rather  a  curious  order,  sir.' 

'  You  can  supply  it  ?' 

*  Without  doubt,  sir.' 

*  Who  is  the  customer  ?' 

*  Mr.  Francis  Tudor,'  replied  the  salesman, 
looking  at  a  paper.     '  No.  7,  the  Flats.' 

'  Ah  yes,'  he  said  ;  and  thought :  '  My  life 
is  over.' 

He  gazed  with  unseeing  eyes  into  the  green 
and  shady  recesses  of  the  palmarium,  where 
water  trickled  and  tinkled. 

What  was  the  power,  the  influence,  the 
lever,  which  Francis  Tudor  was  using  to 
induce  Camilla  to  marry  him — him  whom, 
on  her  own  statement,  she  did  not  love  ? 
And  could  Louis  Ravengar  be  in  earnest, 
after  all,  with  his  savage  threats  ? 


CHAPTER  IX 

'  WHICH  ?' 

*  AND  when  I  decide,  the  thing  is  as  good  as 
done.'  Those  proud,  vain  words  of  his, 
spoken  to  Louis  Ravengar  with  all  the  arro- 
gance of  a  man  who  had  never  met  Fate  like 
a  lion  in  the  path,  often  recurred  to  Hugo's 
mind  during  the  next  few  weeks.  And  their 
futility  exasperated  him.  He  had  decided  to 
win  Camilla,  and  therefore  Camilla  was  as 
good  as  won  !  Only,  she  had  been  married 
on  the  very  morning  of  those  boastful  words 
by  license  at  a  registry-office  to  Francis  Tudor. 
The  strange  admixture  of  orange-blossom  and 
registry-office  was  not  the  only  strange  thing 
about  the  wedding.  It  was  clear,  for  example, 
that  Tudor  must  have  arranged  the  prelimin- 
aries of  the  ceremony  before  the  bride's  con- 
sent had  been  obtained  —  unless,  indeed, 
Camilla  had  garbled  the  truth  to  Hugo  on 
the  previous  night ;  and  Hugo  did  not  believe 
this  to  be  possible. 


•* 

A 

'  WHICH  r  89 

Albert  Shawn  had  brought  the  news  hour 
by  hour  to  Hugo. 

After  the  wedding,  the  pair  drove  to  Mr. 
Tudor' s  flat,  where  Senior  Poly  carp  paid 
them  a  brief  visit. 

Then  Hugo  received  by  messenger  a  note 
from  Tudor  formally  regretting  that  his  wife 
had  left  her  employment  without  due  notice, 
and  enclosing  a  cheque  for  the  amount  of  a 
month's  wages  in  lieu  thereof. 

And  then  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tudor  had  departed 
for  Paris  by  the  two-twenty  Folkstone- 
Boulogne  service  from  Charing  Cross.  And 
the  gorgeous  flat  was  shut  up. 

Albert  Shawn  had  respectfully  inquired 
whether  there  remained  anything  else  to  be 
done  in  the  affair,  far  more  mysterious  to 
Albert  than  it  was  even  to  Hugo. 

*  No,'  Hugo  had  said  shortly. 

He  was  Hugo,  with  extraordinary  resources 
at  hand,  but  a  quite  ordinary  circumstance, 
such  as  ten  minutes  spent  in  a  registry-office, 
will  sometimes  outweigh  all  the  resources  in 
the  world  when  the  success  of  a  scheme  hangs 
in  the  balance. 

What  could  he  do,  in  London  or  in  Paris, 
civilized  and  police-ridden  cities  ? 

Civilization  left  him  but  one  thing  to  do — 


90  HUGO 

to  acknowledge  his  defeat,  and  to  mourn  the 
incomparable  beauty  and  the  distinguished 
spirit  which  had  escaped  his  passionate  grasp. 
And  to  this  acknowledgment  and  this  mourn- 
ing he  was  reduced,  feeling  that  he  was  no 
longer  Hugo. 

It  was  perhaps  natural,  however,  that  his 
employes  should  have  been  made  to  feel  that 
he  was  more  Hugo  than  ever.  For  a  month 
he  worked  as  he  had  never  worked  before, 
and  three  thousand  five  hundred  people,  per- 
spiring under  his  glance  and  under  the  sun  of 
a  London  August,  knew  exactly  the  reason 
why.  The  intense  dramatic  and  sentimental 
interest  surrounding  Camilla  Payne's  disap- 
pearance from  /Department  42  was  the  sole 
thing  which  atoned  to  the  legionaries  for  the 
inconvenience  of  Hugo's  mistimed  activity. 

Then  suddenly  he  fell  limp  ;  he  perceived 
the  uselessness  of  this  attempt  to  forget  in 
Sloane  Street,  and  he  decided  to  try  the  banks 
of  a  certain  trout-stream  on  Dartmoor.  He 
knew  that  with  all  the  sun-glare  of  that  season, 
and  the  water  doubtless  running  a  great  deal 
too  fine,  he  would  be  as  likely  to  catch  trout 
on  Dartmoor  as  on  the  Thames  Embankment ; 
but  he  determined  to  go,  and  he  announced  his 
determination,  and  the  entire  personnel,  from 


'  WHICH  ?'  91 

the  managers  to  the  sweepers,  murmured 
privily,  *  Thank  Heaven  !' 

The  moment  came  for  the  illustrious  depar- 
ture. His  electric  coupe  stood  at  his  private 
door,  and  his  own  luggage  and  Simon  Shawn's 
luggage — for  Simon  never  entrusted  his  master 
to  other  hands — lay  on  the  roof  of  the  coupe. 
Simon,  anxiously  looking  at  his  watch,  chatted 
with  the  driver.  Hugo  had  been  stopped  on 
emerging  from  the  lift  by  the  chief  accountant 
concerning  some  technical  question.  At 
length  he  came  out  into  the  street. 

'  Shaving  it  close,  aren'  J  we,  Simon  ?'  he 
remarked,  and  sprang  into  the  vehicle,  and 
Simon  banged  the  door  and  sprang  on  to  the 
box,  and  they  seemed  to  *>e  actually  off, 
much  to  the  relief  of  Simon,  who  wanted  a 
holiday  badly. 

But  they  were  not  actually  off.  At  that 
very  instant,  as  the  driver  pulled  his  lever, 
Albert  Shawn  came  frantically  into  the  scene 
from  somewhere,  and  signalled  the  driver  to 
wait.  Simon  cursed  his  brother. 

'  Mr.  Hugo,'  Albert  whispered,  as  he  put 
his  head  into  the  coupe. 

'  WeU,  my  lad  ?' 

' 1  suppose  you've  heard  ?  They've  turned 
up  again  at  the  flat.  Yes,  this  morning.' 


92  HUGO 

'  Who  have  turned  up  again  ?' 
'  That's  the  point,  sir.     Some  of  'em.     And 
there's  been  a  funeral  ordered.' 

*  A  funeral  ?     Whose  funeral  ?     From  us  T 
'  Yes,  sir  ;  but  whose — that's  another  point. 

You  see,  I've  just  run  along  to  let  you  know 
how  far  I've  got.  Not  that  you  gave  me 
any  instructions.  But  when  I  heard  of  a 
funeral ' 

'  Is  it  a  man's  or  a  woman's  ?'  Hugo  de- 
manded, thinking  to  himself :  '  I  must  keep 
calm.  I  must  keep  calm.' 

'  Don't  know,  sir.' 

'  But  surely  the  order-book ' 

'  No  order  for  coffin,  sir.  Merely  the  cor- 
tege ;  day  after  to-morrow ;  parties  making 
their  own  arrangements  at  cemetery.  Bromp- 
ton.' 

*  And   did   none   of   the   porters   see   who 
arrived  at  the  flat  this  morning  ?' 

'  None  of  'em  knows  enough  to  be  sure, 
sir.' 

*  Well,'  said  Hugo,  '  there  isn't  likely  to  be 
a  funeral  without  a  coffin,  and  no  porter  could 
be  blind  to  a  coffin  going  upstairs.' 

*  I  can't  get  wind  of  any  coffin,  sir.* 

*  And  that's  all  you've  learnt  ?' 

*  That's  the  hang  of  it,   sir — up  to  now. 


'  WHICH  ?'  93 

But  I  can  wire  you  to-night  or  to-morrow, 
with  further  particulars.' 

Hugo  glanced  at  the  carriage-clock  in  front 
of  him,  and  thought  of  the  famine  of  porters 
at  Waterloo  Station  in  August,  and  invented 
several  other  plausible  excuses  for  a  resolu- 
tion which  he  foresaw  that  he  was  about  to 
arrive  at. 

'  You've  made  me  miss  my  train,'  he  said, 
pretending  to  be  annoyed. 

'  Sorry,  sir.  Simon,  the  governor  isn't 
going.' 

Simon  descended  from  the  box  for  con- 
firmation, a  fratricide  in  all  but  deed. 

*  Have  the  luggage  taken  upstairs,'  Hugo 
commanded. 

He  sat  for  seven  hours  in  the  dome,  scarcely 
moving. 

At  nine  o'clock  Albert  was  announced. 

'  Coffin  just  come  up,  sir,'  he  said,  '  from 
railway-station. ' 

But  that  was  the  limit  of  his  news. 

Within  an  hour  Hugo  went  to  bed.  He 
could  not  sleep  ;  he  had  known  that  he  could 
not  sleep.  The  wild  and  savage  threat  of 
Louis  Ravengar,  and  the  question,  'Which?' 
haunted  his  brain.  At  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning  he  switched  on  all  the  lights,  rose 


94  HUGO 

out  of  bed,  and  walked  aimlessly  about  the 
chamber.  Something,  some  morbid  impulse, 
prompted  him  to  take  up  the  General  Cata- 
logue, which  lay  next  to  a  priceless  copy  of 
the  1603  edition  of  Florio's  *  Montaigne.' 
There  were  pages  and  pages  about  funerals  in 
the  General  Catalogue,  and  forty  fine  photo- 
graphic specimens  of  tombstones  and  monu- 
ments. 

'  Funerals  conducted  in  town  or  country. 
.  .  .  Cremations  and  embalmments  under- 
taken. .  .  .  Special  stress  is  laid  on  the 
appearance  and  efficiency  of  the  attendants, 
and  on  the  reverent  manner  in  which  they 
perform  all  their  duties.  ...  A  shell  finished 
with  satin,  with  robe,  etc.  .  .  .  All  necessary 
service.  ...  A  hearse  (or  open  car,  as  pre- 
ferred) and  four  horses,  three  mourning 
coaches,  with  two  horses  each.  Coachmen 
and  attendants  in  mourning,  with  gloves. 
Superintendent,  £38.  .  .  .  Estimates  for  cre- 
mation on  application.  .  .  .  Broken  column, 
in  marble,  £70.  The  same,  with  less  carving, 
£48.'  And  so  on,  and  so  on  ;  and  at  the  top 
of  every  page  :  '  Hugo,  Sloane  Street,  London. 
Telegraphic  address  :  "  Complete,  London." 
Hugo,  Sloane  Street,  London.  Telegraphic 
address  :  "  Complete,  London."  Hugo ' 


'  WHICH  ?'  95 

Whom  was  he  going  to  bury  the  day  after 
to-morrow — he,  Hugo,  undertaker,  with  his 
reverent  attendants  of  appearance  guaranteed 
respectable  ? 

The  great  catalogue  slipped  to  the  floor  with 
a  terrible  noise,  and  Simon  Shawn  sprang  out 
from  his  lair,  and  stopped  at  the  sight  of  his 
master  in  pyjamas  under  the  full-blazing 
electric  chandelier. 

*  All  serene,'  said  Hugo  ;  *  I  only  dropped 
a  book.  Go  to  sleep.  Perhaps  we  may  reach 
Devonshire  to-morrow,'  he  added  kindly. 

He  sympathized  with  Simon. 

'  Yes,  sir.' 

He  thought  he  would  take  a  stroll  on  the 
roof  ;  it  might  calm  his  nerves.  .  .  .  Foolish- 
ness !  How  much  wiser  to  take  a  sedative  ! 

Then  he  turned  to  the  Montaigne,  and  after 
he  had  glanced  at  various  pages,  his  eye  en- 
countered a  sentence  in  italics :  *  Wisdome 
hath  hir  excesses,  and  no  lesse  need  of  modera- 
tion, than  follie.' 

'  True,'  he  murmured. 

He  dressed,  and  went  out. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   COFFIN 

HE  was  in  that  mental  condition,  familiar  to 
every  genuine  man  of  action,  in  which,  though 
the  mind  divides  against  itself,  and  there  is 
an  apparently  even  conflict  between  two  im- 
pulses, the  battle  is  lost  and  won  before  it  is 
fought,  and  the  fight  is  nothing  but  a  sham 
fight.  He  wandered  about  the  roofs ;  he 
went  as  far  as  the  restaurant  garden,  and 
turned  on  all  the  electric  festoons  and  stan- 
dards by  the  secret  switch,  and  sat  down 
solitary  at  a  table  before  an  empty  glass 
which  a  waiter  had  forgotten  to  remove.  He 
extinguished  the  lights,  wandered  back  to  the 
dome,  climbed  to  the  topmost  gallery,  and 
saw  the  moon  rising  over  St.  Paul's  Cathedral. 
He  said  he  would  go  to  bed  again  at  once, 
well  knowing  that  he  would  not  go  to  bed 
again  at  once.  He  swore  that  he  would  con- 
quer the  overmastering  impulse,  well  knowing 


THE  COFFIN  97 

that  it  would  conquer  him.  He  cursed,  as 
men  only  curse  themselves.  And  then,  sud- 
denly, he  yielded,  gladly,  with  relief. 

He  hastened  out,  and  did  not  pause  till  he 
reached  the  balcony  of  flat  No.  7  in  the  further 
quadrangle.  He  admitted  frankly  now  that 
the  dominant  impulse  which  controlled  his 
mind  would  force  him  to  enter  the  flat  during 
that  night,  by  means  lawful  or  unlawful,  and 
he  perceived  with  satisfaction  that  the  great 
French  window  of  the  drawing-room  was  not 
quite  shut.  The  blinds,  however,  had  been 
carefully  lowered,  and  nothing  of  the  interior 
was  revealed  save  the  fact  that  a  light  burned 
within.  In  the  entire  quadrangle,  round 
which,  tier  above  tier,  hundreds  of  people 
were  silent  in  sleep  or  in  vigil,  this  was  the 
sole  illumination.  Hugo  leaned  over  the 
balcony,  and  tried  to  pierce  the  depths  of 
the  vast  pit  below,  and  those  thoughts  came 
to  him  which  come  to  watchers  by  night  in 
the  presence  of  sleeping  armies,  or  on  the 
high  sea.  The  eternal  and  insoluble  question 
troubled  and  teased  him,  and  would  not  be 
put  aside.  In  imagination,  he  felt  the  very 
swish  of  the  planet  as  it  whirled  through  space 
with  its  cargo  of  pitiful  humanity.  What, 
after  all,  were  life,  love,  ambition,  grief, 

7 


98  HUGO 

death  ?  What,  in  the  incessant  march  of 
suns,  could  be  the  value  of  a  few  restless 
specks  of  vitality  clinging  with  desperation 
to  a  minor  orb  ? 

And  then  he  fancied  he  could  hear  a  sound 
within  the  flat,  and  he  forgot  these  transcen- 
dental speculations,  and  for  him  the  secret  of 
the  universe  lay  behind  the  blinds  of  Francis 
Tudor' s  drawing-room.  Yes,  he  could  hear  a 
sound.  It  was  the  distant  sound  of  a  man 
talking — loudly,  slowly,  and  distinctly — but 
too  far  off  for  him  to  catch  even  one  word. 
He  guessed,  as  he  pushed  the  window  a  little 
wider  open,  and  bent  his  ear  to  the  aperture, 
that  the  voice  must  be  in  a  room  beyond  the 
drawing-room.  It  continued  monotonously 
for  a  long  time,  with  little  breaks  at  rare  in- 
tervals ;  it  was  rather  like  a  parson  reading 
a  sermon  in  an  empty  church.  Then  it 
ceased.  And  there  were  footsteps,  which 
approached  the  window,  and  retired.  He 
noticed  that  the  light  within  the  room  was 
being  moved,  but  it  cast  no  human  shadow 
on  the  blind.  The  light  came  finally  to  a 
standstill,  and  then  there  followed  sounds 
which  Hugo  could  not  diagnose — short,  regu- 
lar sounds,  broken  occasionally  by  a  sharp 
clash,  as  of  an  instrument  falling.  And 


THE  COFFIN  99 

when  these  had  come  to  an  end,  there  were 
more  footsteps — a  precise,  quick  walking  to 
and  fro,  which  continued  for  ages  of  time. 
Lastly,  the  footsteps  receded ;  something 
dropped,  not  heavily,  but  rather  in  a  manner 
gently  subsiding,  and  a  groan  (or  was  it  a 
moan,  a  tired  suspiration  ?)  wakened  in  Hugo's 
spinal  column  a  curious,  strange  thrill.  Then 
silence,  complete,  definitive,  terrifying. 

By  merely  pushing  the  window  against  the 
blind,  he  could  enter  and  know  the  secret  of 
the  universe. 

'  Why  am  I  doing  this  ?'  he  asked  himself, 
while  he  pushed  the  window.  *  Why  have  I 
done  this  ?'  he  asked  himself,  as  he  stood 
within  the  immense  and  luxurious  room. 

He  gazed  round  with  a  swift  and  timid 
glance,  as  a  man  would  who  expects  to  see 
that  which  ought  not  to  be  seen.  To  his  left 
was  the  fireplace,  with  a  magnificent  mirror 
over  it.  On  the  mantelpiece  burned  a 
movable  electric  table  -  lamp,  with  twin 
branched  lights.  He  observed  the  silk- 
covered  cord  lying  across  the  mantelpiece 
and  disappearing  t>ver  the  further  edge  ;  by 
the  side  of  the  lamp  was  a  screwdriver. 
Exactly  in  front  of  the  lamp,  on  a  couple  of 
trestles  such  as  undertakers  use,  lay  an  elm 

7—2 


100  HUGO 

coffin,  its  head  towards  the  mantelpiece.  At 
the  opposite  end  of  the  room  was  another 
fireplace  and  another  mirror,  with  the  result 
that  Hugo  saw  an  endless  succession  of 
coffins  and  corpse-lights,  repeated  and  re- 
peated, till  they  were  lost  in  a  vague  crystal 
blur,  and  by  every  pair  of  corpse-lights  was  a 
screwdriver. 

He  stood  moveless,  and  listened,  and  could 
detect  no  faintest  sound.  Across  the  room 
from  the  principal  window  there  was  a  door- 
way with  a  heavy  portiere  ;  not  a  fold  of  the 
portiere  stirred.  To  his  right,  near  the  other 
window,  was  a  door — the  door  by  which 
Camilla  had  entered  that  night  a  month  ago  ; 
it  was  shut.  His  glance  searched  among  the 
rich  confusion  of  furniture — fauteuils,  occa- 
sional tables,  sofas,  statuary,  vases,  cabinets. 
He  peered  into  every  corner  of  the  silent 
chamber,  and  saw  nothing  that  gave  a  sign 
of  life.  He  even  gazed  up  guiltily  at  the 
decorated  ceiling,  as  though  some  Freemason's 
Eye  might  be  scanning  him  from  above. 

The  coffin  reigned  in  the  room  ;  all  else  was 
subservient  to  its  massive  and  sinister  pre- 
sence, and  the  bright  twin-lamps  watched  over 
its  majesty  with  dazzling  orbs. 

Hugo  went  near  the  coffin,  stepping  on  tip- 


THE  COFFIN  101 

toe  over  the  thick-piled  rugs,  and  examined 
it.  There  was  no  name-plate.  He  looked  at 
himself  in  the  mirror,  and  again  he  murmured 
a  question  :  '  Why  am  I  here  ?'  Then  he 
listened  attentively,  fearfully.  No  sound. 
His  hands  travelled  to  the  screwdriver  on 
the  mantelpiece,  and  then  fifty  of  his  hands 
picked  up  fifty  screwdrivers.  And  he  listened 
once  more.  No  sound. 

'  I  must  do  it.     I  must,'  he  thought. 

The  next  moment  he  was  unscrewing  the 
screws  in  the  lid  of  the  coffin,  and  scarcely 
had  he  begun  the  task  when  he  realized  that 
what  he  had  heard  from  the  balcony  was  the 
screwing  of  these  same  screws.  There  were 
twelve,  and  some  of  them  were  difficult  to 
start,  but  in  due  course  he  had  removed  them 
all,  and  they  stood  in  a  row  on  their  heads 
on  the  mantelpiece.  He  listened  yet  again. 
No  sound.  He  had  only  to  push  the  lid  of 
the  coffin  to  the  left  or  to  the  right,  or  to 
lift  it  up.  He  spent  several  seconds  in  de- 
ciding whether  he  should  push  or  lift,  and 
then  at  length  fifty  Hugos  lifted  bodily  the 
lids  of  fifty  coffins.  And  after  a  dreadful 
hesitation  he  lowered  his  gaze  and  looked. 

Yes,  it  was  Camilla !  He  had  known 
always  that  it  would  be  Camilla. 


102  HUGO 

The  pale  repose  of  death  only  emphasized 
the  proud  and  splendid  beauty  of  that  head, 
with  its  shut  eyes,  its  mouth  firmly  closed  in 
a  faint  smile,  and  its  glorious  hair  surrounded 
by  all  the  white  frippery  of  the  shroud.  Here 
lay  the  mortal  part  of  the  incomparable 
creature  who  had  been  coveted  by  three  men 
and  won  by  one — for  a  few  brief  days'  pos- 
session. Here  lay  the  repository  of  Raven- 
gar's  secrets,  the  grave  of  Hugo's  happiness, 
the  dead  mate  of  Tudor' s  desire.  Here  lay 
the  eternal  woman,  symbol  of  all  beauty  and 
all  charm,  victimized  by  her  own  loveliness. 
For  if  she  had  not  been  lovely,  thought  Hugo, 
if  the  curves  of  her  cheek  and  her  nostrils  and 
the  colour  of  her  skin  had  been  ever  so  slightly 
different,  the  world  might  have  contained  one 
widower,  one  ruined  heart,  and  one  murderer 
the  less  that  night. 

He  did  not  doubt,  he  could  not  doubt,  after 
Ravengar's  threats,  that  she  had  been  mur- 
dered. And  yet  he  was  not  angry  then.  He 
did  not  feel  a  great  grief.  He  was  conscious 
of  no  sensation  save  a  numbed  and  desolate 
awe.  He  had  not  begun  to  feel.  Ledging 
the  lid  crossways  on  the  coffin,  he  placed  his 
hand  gently  upon  Camilla's  brow.  It  was 
colder  than  he  had  expected,  and  it  had  the 


THE  COFFIN  103 

peculiar  hard,  inelastic  touch  of  incipient 
decay — that  touch  which  communicates  a 
shudder  even  to  the  most  impassive. 

'  I  must  go,'  he  whispered,  staring  spell- 
bound at  her  face. 

He  was  surprised  to  find  drops  of  moisture 
falling  on  the  shroud.  They  were  his  tears, 
and  yet  he  had  not  known  that  he  was 
crying. 

He  hid  her  again  beneath  the  elm  plank, 
and,  taking  the  screws  one  by  one  from  the 
mantel-piece,  shut  her  up  for  ever  from  any 
human  gaze.  And  then,  nearly  collapsing 
under  a  nervous  tension  such  as  he  had  never 
before  experienced,  he  turned  to  leave  the 
apartment  as  he  had  entered  it,  like  a  thief. 
But  the  mystery  of  the  heavy  velvet  portiere 
invincibly  attracted  him.  His  steps  wavered 
towards  it.  He  fancied  he  saw  something 
dark  protruding  under  the  curtain,  and  he 
pulled  the  curtain  aside  with  a  movement 
almost  hysteric.  A  man  lay  extended  at  full 
length  on  his  chest  in  the  passage  beyond — 
what  Hugo  had  noticed  was  his  boot. 

'  Tudor !'  he  exclaimed,  kneeling  to  ex- 
amine the  half -concealed  face. 

At  the  same  moment  a  figure  came  quietly 
down  the  passage.  Hugo  looked  up,  and 


104  HUGO 

saw  a  sallow-featured  man  of  about  thirty- 
five  in  a  tourist  suit,  with  light  beard  and  hair, 
and  long  thin  hands. 

'  What  is  this  ?'  asked  the  stranger  evenly. 
'  Who  are  you  ?' 

*  My  name  is  Hugo,'  Hugo  answered  with 
assurance.     '  I  was  walking  along  the  bal- 
conies, as  I  do  sometimes  at  night,  and  I 
heard  strange  sounds  here,  and  as  the  window 
was  open  I  stepped  in  and  found  this.     Are 
you  a  friend  of  Mr.  Tudor' s  ?' 

The    other    bent   in    his    turn,    and    after 
examining  the  prone  body  said : 
6 1  was.     He  has  no  friends  now.' 

*  You  mean  he  is  dead  ?' 

*  He  must  have  died  within  the  last  quarter 
of  an  hour  or  so.' 

*  And  nothing  can  be  done  ?' 

*  Nothing  can  be  done  with  death  !' 

*  I  take  it  you  are  a  doctor  ?'  said  Hugo. 

*  My  name  is  Darcy,'   the  other  replied. 
*  Besides    being   Tudor' s    friend,    I    was    his 
physician.' 

*  Yet  even  for  a  physician,'  Hugo  pursued, 
'  it  seems  to  me  that  you  have  been  able  to 
decide   very   quickly   that   your   friend   and 
patient  is  dead.     I  have  always  understood 
that  to  say  with  assurance  that  death  has 


THE  COFFIN  105 

taken  place  means  a  very  careful  and  thorough 
examination.' 

'  You  are  right,'  Darcy  agreed,  stroking  his 
short,  bright,  silky  beard.  '  There  is  only 
one  absolute  proof  of  death.' 

'  And  that  is  ?' 

'  Putrefaction.  Nevertheless,  the  inquest 
will  show  whether  or  not  I  have  been  in  error.' 

4  There  will  have  to  be  an  inquest  ?' 

'  Certainly.     In   such   a    case    as   this   no 
doctor  in  his  senses  would  give  his  certificate 
without  a  post-mortem,  and  though  I  am  an 
enthusiast,  I  am  in  my  senses,  Mr.  Hugo.' 
*  '  An  enthusiast  ?' 

*  Let  me  explain.  My  friend  Tudor  was 
suffering  from  one  of  the  rarest  of  all  maladies 
— malignant  disease  of  the  heart.  The  text- 
books will  tell  you  that  malignant  disease  of 
the  heart  has  probably  never  been  diagnosed. 
It  is  a  disease  of  which  there  are  no  symptoms, 
in  which  the  patient  generally  suffers  no  pain, 
and  for  which  there  is  no  treatment.  Never- 
theless, in  my  enthusiasm,  I  have  diagnosed 
in  this  case  that  a  very  considerable  extent  of 
the  cardiac  wall  was  affected  by  epithelioma. 
We  shall  see.  Not  long  since  I  condemned 
Tudor  to  an  early  and  sudden  death — a  death 
which  might  be  hastened  by  circumstances.' 


106  HUGO 

c  Poor  chap  !'  Hugo  murmured. 

The  dead  man  looked  so  young,  artless,  and 
content. 

'Why  "poor"?'  Darcy  turned  on  him 
sharply  but  coldly.  '  Is  not  a  sudden  death 
the  best  ?  Would  you  not  wish  it  for  your- 
self, for  your  friends  ?' 

'  Yes,'  said  Hugo ;  *  but  when  one  is  dead 
one  is  dead.  That's  all  I  meant.' 

4 1  have  heard  much  of  you,  Mr.  Hugo,' 
said  the  other.  '  And,  if  I  may  be  excused  a 
certain  bluntness,  it  is  very  obvious  that, 
though  you  say  little,  you  are  no  ordinary 
man.  Can  it  be  possible  that  you  have  lived 
so  long  and  so  fully  and  are  yet  capable  of 
pitying  the  dead  ?  Have  you  not  learnt  that 
it  is  only  they  who  are  happy  ?'  He  vaguely 
indicated  the  corpse.  '  If  you  will  be  so  good 
as  to  assist  me ' 

'  Willingly,'  said  Hugo,  who  could  find 
nothing  else  to  say.  '  I  suppose  we  must 
call  the  servants  ?' 

4  Why  call  the  servants  ?  To  begin  with, 
there  is  only  one  here,  a  somewhat  antique 
housekeeper.  Let  her  sleep.  She  has  been 
through  sufficient  to-day.  Morning  will  be 
time  enough  for  the  futile  formalities  which 
civilization  has  invented  to  protect  itself. 


THE  COFFIN  107 

Night,  which  is  the  season  of  death,  should 
not  be  disturbed  by  them.' 

4  As  you  think  best,'  Hugo  concurred. 

4  And  now,'  Darcy  began,  in  a  somewhat 
relieved  tone,  when  he  had  finished  his  task, 
and  the  remains  of  Francis  Tudor  lay  decently 
covered  on  a  sofa  in  the  drawing-room,  that 
mortuary  chamber,  4  will  you  oblige  me  by 
coming  into  the  study  for  a  while  ?  I  am  not 
in  the  mood  for  sleep,  and  perhaps  you  are 
not.  And  I  will  admit  frankly  that  I  should 
prefer  not  to  be  alone  at  present.  Yes,'  he 
added,  with  a  faint  deprecatory  smile,  '  my 
theories  about  death  are  thoroughly  philo- 
sophical, but  one  cannot  always  act  up  to 
one's  theories.' 

And  in  the  study,  at  the  other  end  of  the 
flat,  far  from  the  relics  of  humanity,  he  began 
to  roll  cigarettes  with  marvellous  swiftness  in 
his  long  thin  fingers. 

Hugo  surmised  that  under  his  singular  and 
almost  glacial  calm  the  man  concealed  a  tem- 
perament highly  nervous  and  sensitive. 

4  You  do  not  inquire  about  the — the  coffin  ?' 
said  Darcy  at  length,  when  they  had  smoked 
for  a  few  moments  in  silence. 

As  a  fact,  Hugo  had  determined  that,  at  no 
matter  what  cost  to  his  feelings,  he  would 


108  HUGO 

not    be    the    first    to    mention    the    other 
fatality. 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other,  and 
each  blew  out  a  lance  of  smoke. 

*  What  did  she  die  of  ?'  Hugo  demanded 
curtly. 

'  You  are  aware,  then,  who  it  is  ?' 
'  Naturally,  I  guessed.' 
'  Ah !  she    died    of    typhoid    fever.     You 
knew  her  ?' 

*  I  knew  her.' 

4  Of  course  ;  I  remember.  She  was  in  your 
employ.  Yes,'  he  sighed ;  *  she  contracted 
typhoid  fever  in  Paris.  It's  always  more  or 
less  endemic  there.  And  what  with  this  hot 
summer  and  their  water-supply  and  their 
drainage,  it's  been  more  rife  than  usual  lately. 
Tudor  called  me  in  at  once.  I  am  qualified 
both  in  England  and  France,  but  I  practise 
in  Paris.  It  was  a  fairly  ordinary  case, 
except  that  she  suffered  from  severe  and 
persistent  headaches  at  the  beginning.  But 
in  typhoid  the  danger  is  seldom  in  the  fever  ; 
it  is  in  the  complications.  She  had  a  haemor- 
rhage. I — I  failed.  A  haemorrhage  in  typhoid 
is  not  necessarily  fatal,  but  it  often  proves  so. 
She  died  from  exhaustion.' 

'  I  thought,'  said  Hugo,  in  a  low,  unnatural 


THE  COFFIN  109 

voice,   *  that  typhoid  marked  the  patient — 
spots  on  the  face.' 

*  Not  invariably.     Oh  no  ;  but  why  do  you 
say  that  ?' 

'  I  only  meant  that  I  hope  her  face  was  not 
marked.' 

4  It  was  not.  You  mean  that  you  hope  her 
face  was  not  marked  because  she  was  so 
beautiful  ?' 

'  Exactly,'  said  Hugo.  '  And  so  Tudor 
brought  the  body  over  to  England  for  burial  ?' 

*  Yes  ;  he  insisted  on  that.     And  he  insisted 
on  my  coming  with  him.     I  could  not  refuse.' 

1  And  now  he,  too,  is  gone  !  Tell  me,  was 
he  expecting  it — his  own  death  ?' 

Darcy  lighted  another  cigarette. 

'  Who  can  say  ?'  he  observed  to  the  ceiling. 
'  Who  can  say  what  premonitions  such  a  man 
may  not  have  had  ?' 

'  I  heard  talking  before  I  came  into  the  flat 
from  the  balcony,'  said  Hugo  abruptly.  '  It 
went  on  for  a  long  time.  Was  it  you  and  he  ?' 

'  No,'  the  doctor  replied  ;  '  I  was  in  here, 
writing.'  He  pointed  to  some  papers  on  a 
desk.  '  I  did  not  even  hear  him  fall.' 

'  Yet  you  heard  me  ?' 

*  No,  I  didn't.     I  was  just  coming  to  find 
out  what  Tudor  was  doing  when  I  saw  you.' 


110  HUGO 

'  It  is  curious  that  I  heard  talking,  and 
walking  about,  too.' 

'  Possibly  he  was  talking  to  himself.  Did 
3rou  hear  two  voices  ?' 

'  Perhaps  I  heard  only  one.' 

'  Then  no  doubt  he  was  talking  to  himself. 
You  won't  be  surprised  to  learn  that  he  had 
been  in  an  excessively  emotional  condition  all 
day.  ...  It  is  all  very  sad.  Only  a  month 
ago,  and  Tudor  was — but  what  am  I  saying  ? 
Who  knows  what  perils  and  misfortunes  he — 
they — may  not  have  escaped  ?  For  my  part, 
I  envy — yes,  I  envy  Tudor.' 

'  But  not  her  ?  You  do  not  envy  her  ?  In 
your  quality  of  philosophy,  you  regret  her 
death  ?' 

4  Do  not  ask  me  to  be  consistent,'  said  the 
philosopher,  after  a  long  pause. 

Hugo  rose  and  approached  Darcy. 

4  Are  you  acquainted  with  a  man  named 
Louis  Eavengar  ?'  he  demanded  in  a  rather 
loud  tone. 

The  doctor  scanned  his  face. 

'  I  have  heard  Tudor  mention  the  name, 
but  I  do  not  know  him.' 

'  And  upon  my  soul  I  believe  you,'  cried 
Hugo.  6  Nevertheless ' 

'  Nevertheless  what  V 


THE  COFFIN  111 

Darcy  seemed  startled.  Hugo's  strange 
outburst  was  indeed  startling. 

'  Oh,  nothing  !'  Hugo  muttered.  '  Nothing.' 
He  walked  to  the  window,  which  looked  out 
on  Blair  Street.  The  first  heralds  of  the 
dawn  were  in  the  eastern  sky,  and  the  moon 
overhead  was  paling.  '  It  will  be  daylight 
in  a  minute,'  he  said.  '  I  must  go.  Come 
with  me  first  to  the  drawing-room,  will  you  ?' 

And  they  passed  together  along  the  passage 
to  the  drawing-room,  where  the  electric  lamp 
was  still  keeping  watch.  Hugo  stood  by  the 
side  of  the  coffin. 

'  What  is  it  ?'  Darcy  quietly  asked. 

*  Have  you  ever  been  in  love  ?'  Hugo  ques- 
tioned him. 

'  Yes,'  said  Darcy. 

'  Then  I  will  tell  you.  You  will  under- 
stand. I  must  tell  someone.  I  loved  her.' 

He  touched  the  elm-wood  gently,  and  hur- 
ried out  of  the  room  by  the  French  window. 

Four  days  later  Mr.  Senior  Polycarp  called 
on  Hugo  in  his  central  office. 

In  the  meantime  the  inquest  had  proved 
the  correctness  of  Mr.  Darcy' s  diagnosis. 
Francis  Tudor  was  buried,  and  Francis  Tudor's 
wife  was  buried.  Hugo,  who  had  accompanied 


112  HUGO 

the  funerals  disguised  as  one  of  his  own 
*  respectful  attendants,'  saw  scarcely  anyone. 
He  had  to  recover  the  command  of  his  own 
soul,  and  to  adopt  some  definite  attitude 
towards  the  army  of  suspicions  which  naturally 
had  assailed  him.  Could  he  believe  Darcy  ? 
He  decided  that  he  could,  and  that  he  must. 
Darcy  had  inspired  him  with  confidence,  and 
there  was  no  doubt  that  the  man  had  an  ex- 
tensive practice  in  Paris,  and  was  well  known 
at  the  British  Embassy.  Camilla,  then,  had 
really  died  of  typhoid  fever  on  her  honeymoon, 
and  hence  Ravengar  had  not  murderously 
compassed  her  death.  And  people  did  die  of 
typhoid  fever,  and  people  did  die  on  their 
honeymoons. 

Either  Ravengar' s  threats  had  been  idle,  or 
Fate  had  mercifully  robbed  him  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  execute  them.  Hugo  remembered 
that  he  had  begun  by  regarding  the  threats  as 
idle,  and  that  it  was  only  later,  in  presence  of 
Camilla's  corpse,  that  he  had  thought  other- 
wise of  them.  So  he  drove  back  the  army  of 
suspicions,  and  settled  down  to  accustom  him- 
self to  the  eternal  companionship  of  a  pro- 
found and  irremediable  grief. 

Then  it  was  that  Polycarp  called. 

'  I  come  to  you,'  said  the  white-moustached 


THE  COFFIN  113 

solicitor,  '  on  behalf  of  my  late  client,  Mr. 
Tudor.  He  made  his  will  after  his  marriage, 
and  before  starting  for  Paris,  and  it  contains  a 
peculiar  clause.  Mr.  Tudor  had  the  flat  on  a 
three  years'  agreement,  renewable  at  his  option 
for  a  further  period  of  two  years.  Over  two 
years  of  the  three  are  expired.' 

'  That  is  so,'  said  Hugo.  *  You  want  to 
get  rid  of  the  tenancy  at  once  ?  Well,  I 
don't  mind.  I  can  easily ' 

'  No,'  Polycarp  interrupted  him,  '  I  wish  to 
give  notice  of  renewal.  The  will  provides  that 
if  the  testator  should  die  within  two  months 
of  the  date  of  it  the  flat  shall  be  sealed  up 
exactly  as  it  stands  for  twelve  months  after 
his  death,  and  that  the  estate  shall  be  held 
by  me,  as  executor  and  trustee,  for  that 
period,  and  then  dealt  with  according  to 
instructions  deposited  in  the  testator's  private 
safe  in  the  vault  which  I  rent  from  you  in 
your  Safe  Deposit.' 

«  But ' 

*  I   have   just   sealed   up   the   flat — doors, 
windows,  ventilators,  everything.' 

'  Mr.  Polycarp,  this  is  impossible.' 

*  Not  at  all.     It  is  done.' 

*  But  the  reason  ?' 

*  I  know  no  more  than  yourself.     As  exe- 

8 


114  HUGO 

cutor,  I  have  carried  out  the  terms  of  the 
will.  I  thought  that  you,  as  landlord,  were 
entitled  to  the  information  which  I  have 
given  you.' 

'  As  landlord,'  said  Hugo,  *  I  object.  And 
I  shall  demand  entrance.' 

'  On  what  ground  ?' 

'  Under  the  clause  which  in  all  tenancy 
agreements  gives  the  landlord  the  right  to 
enter  at  reasonable  times  in  order  to  inspect 
the  condition  of  the  premises,'  Hugo  answered 
defiantly  to  the  lawyer. 

1 1  had  considered  that.  But  I  shall  dispute 
the  right.  You  may  bring  an  action.  What 
then  ?  No  court  will  give  you  leave  to  force 
an  entrance.  An  Englishman's  furnished  flat, 
just  as  much  as  his  house,  is  his  castle.  I 
could  certainly  keep  you  out  for  a  year.' 

4  And  may  I  ask  why  you  are  so  anxious  to 
keep  me  out,  Mr.  Polycarp  ?' 

'  I  am  anxious  merely  to  fulfil  my  duties. 
May  I  ask  why  you  are  so  anxious  to  get  in  ? 
Why  do  you  want  to  thwart  the  wishes  of  a 
dead  man  ?' 

'  I  could  not  permit  that  mystery  to  remain 
for  a  whole  year  in  the  very  middle  of  my 
block  of  flats.' 

'  What  mystery  ?9  Polycarp  suavely  inquired. 


THE  COFFIN  115 

During  this  brief  conversation  all  Hugo's 
suspicions  had  hurriedly  returned,  and  he  had 
examined  them  anew  and  more  favourably. 
Polycarp  ?  Was  it  not  curious  that  Polycarp 
should  be  acting  for  both  Ravengar  and 
Tudor  ?  .  .  .  Darcy  ?  Were  there  not  very 
strange  features  in  the  behaviour  of  this 
English  doctor  who  preferred  to  practise  in 
Paris  ?  .  .  .  And  the  haemorrhage  ?  And, 
lastly,  this  monstrous,  unaccountable,  inex- 
plicable shutting-up  of  the  flat  ? 

He  felt  already  that  those  empty  rooms, 
dark,  silent,  sealed,  guarding  in  some  recess 
he  knew  not  what  dreadful  secret,  were  getting 
on  his  nerves.  And  was  he  to  suffer  for  a 
year  ? 

'  Come,  Mr.  Hugo,'  said  Polycarp  ;  *  I  may 
count  on  your  goodwill  ?' 

'  I  don't  know,'  Hugo  replied — '  I  don't 
know.' 


a-a 


PAKT  II 
THE  PHONOGRAPH 


CHAPTER  XI 

SALE 

STRANGE  sights  are  to  be  seen  in  London. 

At  five  minutes  to  nine  a.m.  on  the  first  day 
of  the  year  seven  vast  crowds  stood  before  the 
seven  principal  entrances  to  Hugo's  ;  seven 
crowds  of  immortal  souls  enclosed  in  the 
bodies  of  women.  They  meant  to  begin  the 
year  well  by  an  honest  attempt  to  get  some- 
thing for  nothing.  It  was  a  cold,  dank,  raw, 
and  formidable  morning  ;  Hugo's  tessellated 
pavements  were  covered  with  moisture,  and, 
moreover,  day  had  not  yet  conquered  night. 
But  the  seven  crowds,  growing  larger  each 
moment,  recked  nothing  of  these  inconveni- 
ences. They  waited  stolidly,  silently,  in  a 
suppressed  and  dangerous  fever,  as  besiegers 
await  the  signal  for  an  attack.  Between  the 
various  entrances,  on  the  three  fagades  of  the 
establishment,  ran  the  long  lines  of  windows 
dressed  with  all  the  materials  for  happiness, 
and  behind  these  ramparts  of  materials  could 

no 


120  HUGO 

be  glimpsed  Hugo's  assistants  moving  about 
in  anxious  expectation  under  the  electric 
lights,  which  burned  red  in  the  foggy  gloom. 
Over  every  portal  was  a  purple  warning : 
'  Beware  of  pickpockets,  male  and  female.' 
No  possible  male  pickpockets,  however,  were 
visible  to  the  eye  ;  perhaps  they  were  dis- 
guised as  ladies.  The  seven  crowds  wedged 
themselves  closer  and  closer,  clutched  tighter 
and  tighter  their  purses,  and  stared  at  the 
golden  commissionaires  through  the  glass 
doors  with  a  glance  more  and  more  ferocious. 
Then  suddenly  something  went  off  with  a 
boom  ;  it  was  the  first  stroke  of  the  great 
Hugo  clock  under  the  dome.  Six  pairs  of 
double  doors  opened  simultaneously,  six  pairs 
of  golden  commissionaires  were  overthrown 
like  ninepins,  and  in  a  fraction  of  time  six 
companies  of  determined  and  remorseless 
women  had  swept  like  Prussian  cavalry  into 
the  interior  of  the  doomed  edifice. 

But  the  seventh  crowd  was  left  on  the 
pavement,  for  the  seventh  pair  of  doors  had 
not  opened.  And  this  was  the  more  extra- 
ordinary in  that  the  seventh  crowd  was  the 
largest  crowd,  and  stood  before  the  entrance 
nearest  to  the  principal  scene  of  the  day's 
operations.  Instantly  the  world  became 


SALE  121 

aware  that  Hugo's  management  was  less 
perfect  than  usual,  and  people  recalled  inci- 
dents in  his  business  during  the  previous  four 
months  which  had  not  been  to  his  credit. 
The  seventh  crowd  was  staggered,  furious, 
and  homicidal.  If  glances  could  have  killed 
the  impassive  pair  of  golden  commissionaires 
behind  the  seventh  portal,  they  would  cer- 
tainly have  fallen  down  dead.  If  the  glass 
of  the  seventh  portal  had  not  been  set  in 
small  squares  of  immense  thickness,  it  would 
have  been  shattered  to  bits,  and  the  strong- 
hold forced.  Many  women  cried  out  that 
justice  had  come  to  an  end  in  England,  for 
was  it  not  an  elementary  principle  of  justice 
that  all  doors  should  open  together  ?  A  few 
women,  more  practical,  and  near  the  edge  of 
the  enraged  horde,  slipped  away  to  other 
entrances.  One  woman  fainted,  but  she  was 
held  upright  by  the  press,  and  as  no  one  paid 
the  slightest  attention  to  her  she  rapidly  came 
to.  Then  at  length  a  tall  gentleman  in  a 
beautiful  frock-coat  was  seen  to  be  expostu- 
lating sternly  with  the  seventh  pair  of  golden 
commissionaires  ;  the  recalcitant  doors  flew 
open,  and  the  beautiful  frock-coat  was  hurled 
violently  against  a  marble  pillar  for  its  pains. 
Just  as  the  seventh  regiment  was  disap- 


122  HUGO 

pearing  to  join  in  the  sack  and  loot,  a  young 
and  pretty  girl  drove  up  in  a  hansom,  threw 
the  driver  a  shilling  (which  the  driver  con- 
templated with  a  scorn  too  deep  for  words), 
and  joined  the  tail  of  the  regiment. 

c  I  knew  I  should  do  it,'  she  said  to  herself, 
'  and  Alb  said  I  shouldn't.' 

In  another  moment  Hugo's  was  a  raging 
sea  of  petticoats.  In  half  an  hour  the  doors 
had  to  be  shut  and  locked,  and  new  crowds 
formed  on  the  tessellated  pavements  ;  Hugo's 
was  full. 

Hugo's  was  full ! 

For  three  days  past  Hugo  had  bought  whole 
pages  of  every  daily  paper  in  London,  in 
order  to  break  gently  to  the  public  the  tre- 
mendous fact  that  his  annual  sale  would  com- 
mence on  New  Year's  Day,  and  the  still  more 
tremendous  fact  that  it  would  close  on  the 
third  of  January.  There  are  only  three 
genuine  annual  sales  in  the  Metropolis.  One 
is  Hugo's,  another  happens  in  Tottenham 
Court  Road,  and  the  third — but  why  disclose 
the  situation  of  the  third,  since  all  persons 
from  Putney  to  Peckham  Rise  who  are  worthy 
to  know  it,  know  it  ?  Hugo's  was  naturally 
the  greatest,  the  largest,  the  most  exciting, 
the  most  marvellous,  the  most  powerful  in  its 


SALE  123 

appeal  to  the  most  powerful  of  human  in- 
stincts— the  instinct  to  get  half  a  crown's 
worth  of  value  for  two  shillings.  In  earlier 
years  Hugo  had  made  his  annual  sale  pro- 
digious and  incredible,  with  no  thought  of 
profit,  merely  for  the  pleasure  of  the  affair. 
But  he  found  that  the  more  he  offered  to  the 
public  the  more  he  received  from  them,  and 
that  it  was  practically  impossible  to  lose 
money  by  giving  things  away.  This  is,  of 
course,  a  fundamental  axiom  of  commerce. 
And  now  Hugo's  annual  sale  was  to  be  more 
astonishing  than  ever ;  some  said  that  he 
meant  at  any  cost  to  efface  the  memory  of 
those  discreditable  incidents  before  men- 
tioned. Decidedly,  many  of  the  advertised 
bargains  were  remarkable  in  the  highest 
degree.  There  was,  for  example,  the  '  fine 
silvered  fox-stole,  with  real  brush  at  each 
end,'  at  a  guinea.  Every  woman  who  can 
tell  a  silvered  fox-stole  from  a  cock's-feather 
boa  is  aware  that  a  silvered  fox-stole  simply 
cannot  be  sold  for  a  guinea.  Yet  Hugo  had 
announced  that  he  would  sell  two  thousand 
of  them  at  that  price,  not  to  mention  muffs 
to  match  at  the  same  figure.  And  there  was 
the  famous  '  Incroyable  '  corset,  white  coutille, 
with  wide  belted  band  round  hips,  double  belt 


124  HUGO 

to  buckle  at  sides,  cut  low '  Enough  ! 

Further  indiscretions  of  description  are  not 
necessary  to  show  that  eighteen  and  nine  is 
the  lowest  price  at  which  a  reasonable  creature 
could  hope  to  obtain  the  '  Incroyable  '  corset. 
But  Hugo's  price  was  twelve  and  eleven.  And 
the  whole-page  advertisements  were  a  solid 
blazing  mass  of  such  jewels. 

The  young  and  pretty  girl  who  had  known 
that  she  would  '  do  it '  hastened  with  assured 
steps,  and  as  quickly  as  the  jostling  multi- 
tudes would  allow,  to  the  fur  department. 
She  was  in  pursuit  of  one  of  the  silvered  fox- 
stoles  with  real  brush  at  each  end.  She  had 
her  husband's  permission — nay,  his  command 
— to  purchase  a  silvered  fox -stole  at  a  guinea 
— if  she  could.  On  the  way  to  her  goal  she 
encountered  by  chance  Simon  Shawn,  and  it 
occurred  that  a  temporary  block  compelled 
her  to  halt  before  him.  The  two  gazed  at 
each  other,  and  Simon  looked  away,  flushing. 
It  was  plain  that,  though  acquainted,  they 
were  not  on  speaking  terms.  The  fact  was, 
that  their  silence  covered  a  domestic  drama 
— a  drama  which  had  arisen  as  the  conse- 
quence of  a  great  human  truth — namely,  that 
even  detectives  will  marry. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  on  a  certain 


SALE  125 

morning  in  July,  after  Hugo  had  finished 
pasting  a  notice  on  a  mirror  in  one  of  the 
common  rooms,  in  the  presence  of  a  pink- 
aproned  waitress,  Albert  Shawn  entered,  and 
kissed  the  pink-aproned  waitress.  So  far  as 
possible,  whom  Albert  Shawn  kissed  he 
married,  and  he  had  married  the  waitress 
just  the  week  before  Christmas,  and  this  was 
she.  Simon  had  objected  sternly  to  the 
mesalliance.  It  seemed  shocking  to  Simon 
that  a  rising  detective  should  marry  a  girl 
who  waited  on  shop-girls.  Hence  the  drama. 
Hugo  had  positively  refused  to  allow  an  open 
quarrel  between  the  brothers,  because  of  its 
inconvenience  to  himself,  but  he  could  not 
prevent  a  quarrel  between  Simon  and  Lily — 
such  was  her  name.  They  met  now  for  the 
first  time  since  the  marriage,  and  Lily's 
demeanour  may  be  imagined.  She  gazed 
through  Simon  as  though  he  did  not  exist, 
and  passed  magnificently  onwards  as  soon  as 
the  throng  permitted.  She  was  Mrs.  Albert 
Shawn,  as  neat  as  ninepence,  as  smart  and 
pert  as  a  French  maid  out  for  the  day.  She 
drove  in  hansoms,  and  she  had  a  five-pound 
note  in  her  pocket. 

Albert  had  been  granted  two  weeks'  vaca- 
tion for  his  honeymoon,  ancl  he  ought  to  have 


126  HUGO 

resumed  his  duties  of  detection  that  morning. 
The  honeymoon,  however,  had  lasted  only 
nine  days,  and  the  remaining  five  days  of  the 
period  had  been  spent  by  him  in  some  secret 
affair  of  his  own,  an  affair  which  had  ended 
in  an  accident  to  his  left  foot,  so  that  he 
could  not  walk.  The  consequence  was  that, 
on  this  day  of  all  days,  Hugo's  was  deprived 
of  his  services.  Lily  was,  perhaps,  not  alto- 
gether sorry  for  the  catastrophe  which  kept 
him  a  prisoner  in  the  nest-like  home  in  Radi- 
pole  Road,  for  it  had  resulted  in  this  excur- 
sion of  hers  to  the  sale.  Albert  had  bidden 
her  to  go  to  buy  a  stole  and  other  things,  to 
keep  her  eyes  open,  and  to  report  to  Hugo 
in  person  if  she  observed  anything  queer. 
He  had  even  given  her  a  pass  which  would 
ensure  her  immediate  admittance  to  any  of 
Hugo's  private  lairs.  Therefore,  Lily  felt 
extremely  important,  extremely  like  a  detec- 
tive's wife.  She  knew  that  Albert  trusted 
her,  and  she  was  very  proud  that  she  had  not 
asked  him  any  questions  concerning  a  matter 
exasperatingly  mysterious.  Albert  had  taught 
her  that  a  detective's  wife  should  crucify 
curiosity. 

She  fought  her  way  to  a  counter  in  the  fur 
department. 


SALE  121 

6  The  guinea  stoles  ?'  she  inquired  from  a 
shopwalker. 

6 1 — I  beg  pardon,  miss,'  said  the  shop- 
walker. 

'  Madam,'  Lily  corrected  him.  *  I  want 
one  of  those  silvered  fox-stoles  advertised 
at  a  guinea.' 

'  You'll  probably  find  them  over  there, 
madam,'  said  the  shopwalker,  pointing. 

6  Aren't  you  sure  ?'  she  asked  tartly.  '  I 
don't  want  to  struggle  across  there  and  then 
find  they're  somewhere  else.' 

The  shopwalker  turned  his  back  on  her. 

'  Well,  I  never  !'  she  exclaimed  to  herself, 
and  decided  that  Albert  should  avenge  her. 

Then,  behind  the  counter,  she  saw  a  girl 
whom  she  used  to  serve  with  a  glass  of  milk 
every  morning. 

'  Oh,  Miss  Lawton,'  she  cried,  as  an  equal 
to  an  equal,  '  can  you  tell  me  where  the  stoles 
are  to  be  found  ?' 

'  Probably  over  there,  Mrs.  Shawn,'  said 
Miss  Lawton  kindly,  nodding  the  greeting 
she  had  no  time  to  utter. 

So  Lily  got  away  from  the  counter,  plunged 
into  a  chartless  sea  of  customers,  and  even- 
tually emerged  in  the  quarter  which  had  been 
indicated. 


128  HUGO 

*  All  sold  out,  miss  !' 

Such  was  the  blunt  answer  to  her  demand 
for  a  silvered  fox-stole. 

*  Don't   talk  to   me  like  that !'  said  Mrs. 
Albert  Shawn.     '  It  isn't  above  half -past  nine 
on  the  first  morning  of  the  sale,   and  you 
advertised  two  thousand  of  them.' 

*  Sorry,  miss.     All  sold  out,'  repeated  the 
second  shopwalker. 

6 1  shall  report  this  to  Mr.  Hugo.  Do  you 
know  who  I  am  ?  I'm ' 

And  the  second  shopwalker  also  turned  his 
back. 

Could  these  things  be  happening  at  Hugo's, 
at  Hugo's,  so  famous  for  the  courtesy,  the 
long  patience,  the  indestructible  politeness  of 
its  well-paid  employes  ?  And  could  Hugo 
have  descended  to  the  trickeries  of  the  eleven- 
pence-halfpenny draper,  who  proclaimed  non- 
existent bargains  to  lure  the  unwary  into  his 
shop  ?  Lily  might  have  wondered  if  she  was 
not  dreaming,  but  she  was  far  too  practical 
ever  to  be  in  the  least  doubt  as  to  whether 
she  was  asleep  or  awake.  And  now  she  per- 
ceived that  scores  of  angry  women  about  her 
were  equally  disappointed  by  the  disgraceful 
absence  of  those  stoles.  The  department, 
misty,  stuffy,  and  noisy,  had  the  air  of  being 


SALE  129 

the  scene  of  an  insurrection.  One  lady  was 
informing  the  public  generally  that  she  had 
demanded  a  guinea  stole  at  three  minutes 
past  nine,  and  had  been  put  off  with  a  mon- 
strous excuse.  And  then  a  newspaper  re- 
porter appeared,  and  began  to  take  notes. 
The  din  increased,  though  shopwalkers  said 
less  and  less,  and  the  chances  seemed  in 
favour  of  the  insurrection  becoming  a  riot. 
Other  admirable  bargains  in  furs  were  in- 
dubitably to  be  had — muffs,  for  example — 
and  the  cashiers  were  busy ;  but  nothing 
could  atone  for  the  famine  of  stoles. 

Lily  had  a  suspicion  that  Albert  would  have 
wished  her  to  report  these  singular  circum- 
stances to  Hugo  at  once.  But  she  dismissed 
the  suspicion,  because  she  passionately  de- 
sired an  '  Incroyable  '  corset  at  twelve  and 
eleven,  and  she  feared  lest  the  corsets  might 
have  vanished  as  strangely  as  the  stoles.  In 
ten  minutes,  breathless,  she  had  reached  the 
corset  department,  demanded  an  '  Incroyable  ' 
of  the  correct  size,  and  bought  it.  There  was 
no  dissatisfaction  in  the  corset  department. 

'  Shall  we  send  it,  miss  ?' 

'Madam,'  said  Lily  proudly.  'No,  I'll 
take  it.' 

*  Yes,  madam.' 

9 


130  HUGO 

At  the  cash  desk  (No.  56)  she  had  to  wait 
her  turn  in  a  disorderly  queue  before  she 
could  tender  the  bill  and  her  five-pound  note. 
Customers  pressed  round  her  on  all  sides  as 
she  put  down  the  note  and  peered  through 
the  wire  network  into  the  interior  of  the  desk. 

'  Next,  please,'  said  the  cashier  sharply, 
after  a  moment. 

'  My  change,'  demanded  Lily. 

'  You  have  had  it,  madam.' 

6  Oh,'  said  Lily,  '  I  have  had  it,  have  I  ? 
Now,  none  of  your  nonsense,  young  man  ! 
Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?  I'm  Mrs.  Albert 
Shawn.' 

'  Mr.  Randall,'  the  cashier  called  out  coldly, 
and  a  grave  and  gigantic  shopwalker  appeared 
who  knew  not  the  name  of  Albert  Shawn,  and 
who  firmly  told  Mrs.  Shawn  that  if  she  wished 
to  make  a  complaint  she  must  make  it  at  the 
Central  Inquiry  Office,  ground-floor,  Depart- 
ment IA. 

Lily  had  been  brazenly  robbed  at  Hugo's  by 
an  employe  of  Hugo !  She  was  elbowed 
away  by  other  women  apparently  anxious  to 
be  robbed.  She  wanted  to  cry,  but  suddenly 
remembering  her  identity,  and  her  pass  to  the 
presence  of  Hugo,  she  threw  up  her  head  and 
marched  off  through  the  crowds. 


SALE  131 

She  had  not  proceeded  twenty  yards  before 
she  was  stopped  by  a  group  of  persons  round 
a  policeman — a  policeman  obviously  called  in 
from  Sloane  Street.  A  stout  woman  of  lady- 
like appearance  had  been  arrested  on  a  charge 
of  attempted  pocket-picking.  An  accusatory 
shopwalker  charged  her,  and  she  replied 
warmly  that  she  was  Lady  Brice  (nee  Ken- 
tucky-Webster), the  American  wife  of  the 
well-known  philanthropist,  and  that  her  car- 
riage was  waiting  outside.  The  policeman 
and  the  shopwalker  smiled.  It  was  so  easy 
to  be  the  wife  of  a  well-known  philanthropist, 
and  in  these  days  all  the  best  pickpockets  had 
their  carriages  waiting  outside. 

'  I  know  this  lady  by  sight,'  said  Lily. 
'  She  visited  the  common-rooms  last  year  to 
see  the  arrangements,  with  Mr.  Hugo,  and  he 
called  her  Lady  Brice,  and  I  can  tell  you  he'll 
be  very  angry  with  you.' 

'  And  who  are  you,  my  young  friend  ?' 
said  the  policeman  sceptically,  and  threaten- 
ingly. 

'  I'm—' 

The  formula  proved  useless.  Lady  Brice 
(nee  Kentucky- Webster)  was  led  off  in  all  her 
vast  speechless,  outraged  impeccability,  and 

poor  little  Lily  was  glad  to  escape  with  her 

9—2 


132  HUGO 

freedom  and  the  memory  of  Lady  Brice's 
grateful  bow. 

She  ran,  gliding  in  and  out  between  the 
knots  of  visitors,  until  she  was  stopped  by  a 
pair  of  doors  being  suddenly  shut  and  fastened 
in  her  face.  The  reason  for  the  obstruction 
was  plain.  Those  doors  admitted  to  the 
blouse  department,  and  the  blouse  depart- 
ment, as  Lily  could  see  through  the  diamond 
panes,  was  a  surging  sea  of  bargain-hunters, 
amid  which  shopwalkers  stood  up  like  light- 
houses, while  the  girls  behind  the  counters 
trembled  in  fear  of  being  washed  away.  Dis- 
cipline, order,  management,  had  ceased  to 
exist  at  Hugo's. 

Mrs.  Shawn  turned  to  seek  another  route, 
but  already  dozens  of  women  were  upon  her, 
and  she  could  not  retire.  The  crowd  of  can- 
didates for  admission  to  the  blouse  depart- 
ment swelled  till  it  filled  the  gallery  between 
that  department  and  its  neighbour.  Then 
someone  cried  out  for  air,  and  someone  else 
protested  that  the  doors  at  the  other  end  of 
the  short  gallery  had  also  been  shut.  Lily, 
whose  manifold  misfortunes  had  not  quenched 
her  interest  in  the  '  Incroyable '  corset, 
opened  her  parcel,  and  found  that  the  corset 
was  not  an  '  Incroyable  '  at  all,  but  an  inferior 


SALE  133 

substitute,  with  no  proper  belted  band,  and 
of  a  shape  to  startle  even  a  Brighton  bathing- 
woman  !  The  change  must  have  been  effected 
by  the  assistant  in  making  up  the  parcel. 

'  WeU  !' 

She  could  say  no  more,  and  think  no  more, 
than  this  '  WeU  !' 

And,  moreover,  the  condition  of  the  packed 
gallery  soon  caused  her  to  forget  even  the  final 
swindle  of  the  corset.  The  air  had  rapidly 
become  exhausted.  Women  clutched  at  each 
other  ;  women  rapped  frenziedly  against  the 
heavy,  glazed  doors  ;  women  screamed.  It 
was  the  Black  Hole  of  Calcutta  over  again, 
and  yet  no  one  in  the  blouse  department 
seemed  to  notice  the  signals  of  distress.  Lily 
felt  the  perspiration  on  her  brow  and  chin, 
and  then  she  knew  that  she,  too,  must  scream 
and  clutch  ;  and  she  cried  out,  and  the  pres- 
sure which  forced  her  against  the  door  grew 
more  and  more  terrible.  .  .  .  She  had  dropped 
the  corset.  .  .  .  She  murmured  feebly 

c  Alb '  .  .  .  She  began  to  dream  queer 

dreams  and  to  see  strange  lights.  .  .  .  And 
then  something  gave  way  with  a  crash,  and 
she  fell  forward,  and  regiments  of  horses 
trampled  over  her,  and  at  last  all  living  things 
receded  from  her,  and  she  was  in  the  midst  of 


134  HUGO 

t 
a  great  silence.     And  then  even  the  silence 

was  gone,  and  there  was  nothing. 

So  ended  the  first  part  of  Lily's  adventures 
at  Hugo's  infamous  annual  sale. 


When  she  recovered  perfect  consciousness, 
she  was  in  the  dome.  She  knew  it  was  the 
dome  because  Albert  had  once,  at  her  urgent 
request,  taken  her  surreptitiously  to  see  it. 
Simon  was  standing  over  her,  as  sympathetic 
as  the  most  exigent  sister-in-law  could  wish, 
and  the  great  Shawn  family  feud  had  ex- 
pired. 

In  two  minutes  she  was  her  intensely  prac- 
tical self  again.  In  five  minutes  she  had 
acquainted  Simon  with  all  her  experiences  ; 
they  were  but  the  complement  of  what  he 
himself  had  witnessed. 

The  sense  of  a  mysterious  calamity  over- 
hanging Hugo's,  and  the  sense  of  the  shame 
which  had  already  disgraced  Hugo's,  pressed 
heavily  on  both  of  them.  They  knew  that 
only  one  man  could  retrieve  what  had  been 
lost  and  avert  irreparable  disaster.  Their 
faith  in  that  man  was  undiminished,  and 
Simon  at  least  was  sure  that  he  had  been 
victimized  by  some  immense  conspiracy. 


SALE  135 

'  Why  don't  you  find  Mr.  Hugo  ?'  Lily 
demanded. 

'  I've  looked  everywhere.  A  letter  was 
brought  up  to  him  about  an  hour  ago,  and 
he  went  off  instantly.' 

'  And  where's  the  letter  ?' 

'  I  expect  it's  in  that  drawer,  where  he 
throws  all  his  private  letters,'  said  Simon, 
pointing  to  a  drawer  in  the  big  writing-table  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  room  from  the  piano. 

'  Is  it  locked — the  drawer  ?' 

'No.' 

'  Then  open  it.' 

'  It's  the  governor's  private  drawer,'  said 
Simon.  '  I've  never ' 

'  Stuff  !'  Lily  exclaimed,  and  she  opened 
the  drawer  and  drew  out  the  topmost  letter. 

It  was  on  blue  paper. 

'  Yes,  that's  it,'  said  Simon.  '  The  enve- 
lope was  blue,  I  remember.' 

'  He  must  be  in  the  Safe  Deposit,'  said  Lily, 
perusing  the  letter  with  flying  glance. 

And  Simon,  at  length  sufficiently  embol- 
dened, seized  the  letter  and  read  : 

4  SIB, 

'  Mr.  Polycarp  has  just  been  here,  and 
accidentally  left  behind  him  keys  of  his  vault, 


136  HUGO 

including  safe  of  late  Mr.  Francis  Tudor,  etc. 
In  these  peculiar  circumstances  I  shall  be 
glad  to  know  what  I  am  to  do. 

*  Yours  respectfully, 

*  H.  BBOWN. 

•  Head  Guardian, 

1  Hugo's  Safe  Deposit.' 

'  What  on  earth  can  Brown  be  thinking 
about  ?'  muttered  Simon.  '  Hadn't  he  got 
enough  gumption  to  send  a  messenger  after 
Mr.  Polycarp,  without  troubling  the  governor  ? 
He'U  catch  it.' 

'  Never  mind  that,'  said  Lily  sharply, 
'  Run  down  to  the  Safe  Deposit.  Run^ 
Simon.' 

It  was  as  though  a  delay  of  minutes  might 
mean  ruin.  Who  could  say  what  was  even 
then  happening  in  the  disorganized  and 
masterless  departments  T 


CHAPTER  XII 

." 

SAFE   DEPOSIT 

THE  Safe  Deposit  at  Hugo's  was  perhaps  the 
most  wonderful  of  all  the  departments.  Until 
Hugo  thought  of  it,  and  paid  a  trinity  of 
European  experts  to  design  and  devise  it, 
there  had  existed  no  such  thing  as  an  abso- 
lutely impregnable  asylum  for  valuables.  In 
Dakota  a  strong-room  alleged  to  be  impreg- 
nable had  been  approached  underground, 
tunnelled,  mined,  and  emptied  by  thieves 
with  imagination.  In  the  North  of  England 
a  safe,  which  its  inventor  had  defied  the  whole 
universe  of  crime  to  open,  had  been  rifled  by 
the  aid  of  so  simple  a  dodge  as  duplicate  keys. 
Even  in  Tottenham  Court  Road  a  couple  of 
ingenious  persons  had  burnt  a  hole  in  a 
guaranteed  safe  by  means  of  common  gas 
at  three  and  threepence  per  thousand  cubic 
feet.  These  surprises  could  not  occur  at 
Hugo's.  His  Safe  Deposit  really  was  what 

137 


138  HUGO 

it  pretended  to  be.  All  contingencies  were 
provided  for.  It  was  the  final  retort  of 
virtue  to  vice. 

You  approached  it  by  a  door  of  quite  ordi- 
nary appearance  (no  one  cares  to  be  seen 
leaving  what  is  obviously  a  safe  deposit), 
and  you  signed  your  name  before  entering  a 
lift.  You  descended  forty  feet  below  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  gave  a  password  on 
emerging  from  the  lift,  traversed  a  corridor, 
and  at  length  stood  in  front  of  the  sole  en- 
trance to  the  Safe  Deposit.  A  guardian, 
when  you  had  signed  your  name  again,  un- 
locked three  unpickable,  incombustible,  and 
gunpowder-proof  locks  in  a  massive  steel 
door,  and  you  were  admitted,  assuming 
always  that  the  hour  was  between  nine  and 
six.  Out  of  hours  and  on  Saturday  after- 
noons and  on  Sundays  a  time-lock  rendered 
it  utterly  impossible  for  any  person  what- 
ever to  turn  any  key  in  the  Safe  Deposit. 
Once  the  lock  was  set,  Hugo  himself  could 
not  have  entered,  not  even  to  save  the  British 
Empire  from  instant  destruction,  until  the 
time-lock  had  run  its  course. 

You  found  yourself  in  an  electrically  lighted 
world  of  passages  built  in  flashing  steel,  with 
floors  of  steel  and  ceilings  of  steel — a  world 


SAFE  DEPOSIT  139 

where  the  temperature  was  always  65°. 
Every  passage  was  separated  from  every 
other  passage  by  steel  grilles,  and  at  intervals 
uniformed  and  gigantic  officials  wandered 
about  with  impassive,  haughty  faces — faces 
that  indicated  a  sublime  confidence  in  the 
safety  of  the  multifarious  riches  committed 
to  their  care.  You  might  have  guessed  your- 
self in  the  fell  grip  of  the  Inquisition.  As  a 
fact,  you  were  in  something  far  more  fell. 
You  were  in  a  vast  chamber  of  steel,  and  that 
chamber  was  itself  enclosed  on  all  sides  by 
three  feet  of  solid  concrete.  No  thief  could 
tunnel  or  mine  you  without  first  getting 
through  the  District  Railway  on  the  one 
hand,  or  the  main  drainage  system  of  London 
on  the  other.  No  thief  could  rifle  you  by 
means  of  duplicate  keys,  for  no  vault  and 
no  safe  could  be  opened  except  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  head  guardian,  who  possessed 
a  key  without  which  the  renter's  key  was 
useless.  No  tricks  could  be  played  with  the 
gas,  because  there  was  no  gas,  and  the  electric 
light  could  only  be  turned  off  or  on  from  the 
top  of  the  lift- well. 

Now,  it  was  a  singular  thing  that  when 
Simon  Shawn,  having  proved  his  identity  and 
his  mission  at  the  lift,  arrived  at  the  entrance 


140  HUGO 

to  the  Safe  Deposit,  he  discovered  the  great 
steel  door  ajar,  and  no  door-guardian  in  the 
leather  chair  where  a  door-guardian  always 
sat.  This  condition  of  affairs  did  not  affect 
the  essential  impregnability  of  any  individual 
vault  or  safe,  but,  nevertheless,  it  was  singular. 

Simon  walked  straight  in. 

'  There's  no  one  at  the  door,'  he  said  to  the 
patrol,  whom  he  met  in  the  main  passage. 
'  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Hugo  at  once.  He's  down 
here  somewhere,  or  he's  been  here.' 

'  Yes,  Mr.  Shawn,'  said  the  patrol  politely  ; 
*  I  did  see  Mr.  Hugo  here  about  an  hour  or  so 
ago.  I'll  ask  Mr.  Brown.  Will  you  step  into 
the  waiting-room  ?' 

Half-way  along  the  main  corridor  was  a 
large  room,  whose  steel  walls  were  masked  by 
tapestries,  where  renters  could  examine  their 
treasures  on  marble  tables.  It  was  empty 
when  Simon  went  in.  The  patrol  carefully 
closed  the  door  on  him,  and  then  in  a  moment 
came  back  to  say  that  Mr.  Brown  was  not  in 
his  office,  and  had  probably  gone  out  to  lunch, 
the  hour  being  noon. 

'  Where  did  you  see  Mr.  Hugo  ?'  Simon 
asked,  hurrying  out  of  the  room  in  a  state  of 
considerable  agitation. 

'  I  saw  him  just  here,  sir,'  said  the  patrol, 


SAFE  DEPOSIT  141 

turning  down  a  short  side  corridor — the  grille 
was  unfastened — and  stopping  before  a  door 
numbered  thirty-nine.  '  He  was  talking  to 
Mr.  Brown,  and  the  door  of  the  vault  was 
open.' 

'  That  must  be  Mr.  Polycarp's  vault,' 
Simon  observed  ;  and  then  he  started,  and 
put  his  ear  against  the  door.  '  Listen  !'  he 
exclaimed  to  the  patrol.  '  Can't  you  hear 
anything  inside  ?' 

And  the  patrol  also  put  his  ear  to  the  steel 
face  of  the  door. 

'  I  seem  to  hear  a  faint  knocking,  but  it's 
that  faint  as  you  scarcely  can  hear  it.  There  ! 
it's  stopped.' 

'  He  is  inside,'  Shawn  whispered. 

'  Who's  inside  ?' 

'  Mr.  Hugo.' 

'  It's  God  help  him,  then,'  said  the  patrol, 
'if  he's  there  long.  There's  no  ventilation, 
Mr.  Shawn.  We'd  better  telephone  for  Mr. 
Poly  carp.  The  other  key  will  be  in  the  key- 
safe.  I  can  get  it.  But  how  do  you  make 
out,  sir,  that  Mr.  Hugo  can  be  in  there  ?  The 
vault  could  only  be  locked  by  Mr.  Polycarp 
and  Mr.  Brown  together,  and  surely  they 
couldn't  both ' 

*  Mr.  Polycarp  left  his  keys  behind  by  acci- 


142  HUGO 

dent.  He  had  gone  before  Mr.  Hugo  came 
down.' 

'  There's  been  no  Mr.  Poly  carp  here  this 
morning,'  said  the  patrol  a  minute  later. 
'  I've  looked  at  the  signature- book.  I  thought 
it  was  queer  I  hadn't  seen  him.  And,  what's 
more,  that  isn't  Mr.  Poly  carp's  vault  at  all. 
Mr.  Polycarp's  vault  is  No.  37.  This  vault 
has  been  empty  for  several  weeks.' 

'  Then  you  have  both  the  keys  ?'  Simon 
demanded  quickly. 

'  No,  sir.  It's  very  strange.  There's  only 
one  key  of  No.  39  in  the  key-safe,  and  it's  the 
renter's  key.' 

'  Then  Mr.  Brown  must  have  the  other.' 

6 1  expect  so.  But  he  ought  not  to  have. 
It's  against  rules,'  said  the  patrol.  '  I  know 
where  he  takes  his  lunch.  I'll  send  for 
him.' 

Simon  put  his  ear  again  to  the  face  of  the 
door.  The  faint  knocking  had  ceased,  but 
after  a  few  seconds  it  recommenced. 

'  And  suppose  you  don't  find  Mr.  Brown  ?' 
he  queried,  still  listening. 

'  Then  that  vault  can't  be  opened.  But 
never  you  fear,  Mr.  Shawn.  I'll  have  him 
here  in  three  minutes.  It's  funny  as  he 
should  have  left  anybody  in  there  by  accident 


SAFE  DEPOSIT  143 

— and  Mr.  Hugo  of  all  people  in  this  blessed 
world.  .  .  .' 

The  patrol's  accents  died  away  as  he  passed 
down  the  main  corridor. 

Within  the  next  half-hour  Simon,  who  had 
the  rare  virtue  of  being  honest  with  himself, 
was  freely  admitting,  in  the  privacy  of  his 
own  mind,  that  the  crisis  had  got  beyond  his 
power  to  grapple  with  it,  and  he  had  begun 
to  fear  complications  more  dreadful  than  he 
dared  to  put  into  words.  For  the  patrol  had 
failed  to  find  Mr.  Brown.  Mr.  Brown,  head 
guardian  of  the  Safe  Deposit,  had  disappeared. 
Nor  was  this  all.  A  renter  had  come  to  take 
his  belongings  from  a  safe  in  the  third  side- 
passage  on  the  left,  and  the  sub-guardian  im- 
prisoned in  that  passage  could  not  open  the 
grille  between  it  and  the  main  corridor.  He 
had  his  key,  but  the  key  would  not  turn  in 
the  glittering  lock.  The  renter,  too  impatient 
to  wait,  had  departed  very  angrily  at  this 
excess  of  safety.  Then  it  was  gradually  dis- 
covered that  every  sub-guardian  in  every 
side-passage  was  similarly  imprisoned.  Not 
a  key  in  the  entire  place  would  turn.  The 
patrol  rushed  to  the  main  door.  The  three 
keys  had  clearly  been  turned  while  the  door 
was  opened,  and  the  shot  bolts  prevented  the 


144  HUGO 

door  from  closing.  This  explained  why  the 
door  was  ajar,  but  it  did  not  explain  the 
absence  of  the  doorkeeper,  who  had  appar- 
ently followed  in  the  footsteps  of  his  chief, 
Mr.  Brown. 

'  The  time-lock  !  Someone  must  have  set 
it !'  cried  the  patrol  to  Shawn,  and  the  two 
hastened  to  the  other  end  of  the  main  corridor, 
where  the  dial  of  the  machine  glistened  under 
an  electric  lamp. 

And  all  the  sub-guardians  stirred  and 
grumbled  in  their  beautiful  bright  cages  like 
wrathful  lions.  No  such  scene  had  ever  been 
known  in  that  Safe  Deposit  or  any  other  safe 
deposit  before. 

The  patrol  was  right.  The  dial  of  the  time- 
lock  showed  that  it  had  been  set  against  every 
lock,  great  and  small,  in  the  Safe  Deposit, 
until  nine  a.m.  the  next  day. 

'  It's  all  up  !'  the  patrol  said  solemnly. 

'  Do  you  mean  to  say  nothing  can  be  done 
to  open  that  vault  till  nine  to-morrow  ?' 
Simon  demanded  in  despair. 

'  Nothing.  The  blooming  Czar  couldn't 
manage  it  with  all  his  Cossacks  !  No,  nor 
Bobs  either  !  This  is  a  Safe  Deposit,  this  is, 
and  if  Mr.  Hugo  is  in  that  vault,  it's  Mr.  Hugo 
as  knows  it's  a  Safe  Deposit  by  now.' 


SAFE  DEPOSIT  145 

A  brief  silence  ensued,  and  then  Simon 
said  : 

4  We  must  telephone  to  the  police.  There's 
a  telephone  in  the  waiting-room,  isn't  there  ?' 

The  patrol  admitted  that  there  was,  but 
his  manner  hinted  a  low  opinion  of  the  utility 
of  the  police.  He  stood  mute  while  Simon 
Shawn  told  the  telephone  receiver  what  had 
occurred  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  beneath 
Hugo's. 

'  Wait  a  minute,'  said  the  telephone,  and 
then,  after  a  pause  :  '  Are  you  there  ?  I'm 
Inspector  Winter.' 

'  That's  him  as  has  charge  of  all  the  strong- 
room cases,'  the  patrol  interjected  to  Simon. 

'  I've  got  Mr.  Jack  Galpin  here,  as  it 
happens,'  said  the  telephone. 

'  Mr.  Jack  Galpin  ?'  Simon  questioned. 

*  He's  just  done  eighteen  months  for  an 
attempt  in  Lombard  Street,'  the  patrol  ex- 
plained. '  I've  heard  of  him.' 

'  I'll  come  down  with  him  immediately  in 
a  cab/  said  the  telephone. 

When  Simon  returned  to  the  impregnable 
door  of  Vault  39  he  listened  in  vain  for  a 
sound.  Then  he  knocked  with  his  pen-knife 
on  the  polished  steel,  and  presently  there  was 
an  answering  signal  from  within — a  series  of 

10 


146  HUGO 

scarcely  perceptible  irregular  taps.  It  struck 
him  that  the  irregularity  of  the  taps  formed  a 
rhythm,  and  after  a  few  seconds  he  recog- 
nised the  rhythm  of  the  Intermezzo  from 
'Cavalleria  Rusticana,'  which  he  had  played 
for  Hugo  that  very  morning. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  messenger- 
boy  attached  to  the  department  came  whistling 
into  the  steel  corridors,  and  delivered  to  the 
patrol  a  small  white  packet,  which,  he  said, 
Mr.  Brown  had  handed  to  him  with  instruc- 
tions to  hand  it  to  the  patrol.  He  had  seen 
Mr.  Brown  in  a  cab  outside  the  building,  and 
Mr.  Brown  had  the  appearance  of  being  very 
ill. 

The  packet  contained  the  second  key  of 
Vault  39. 

*  But  this'll  be  no  use  till  to-morrow,'  was 
the  patrol's  comment,  '  and  by  then ' 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MR.    GALPIN 

WHEN  the  patrol  and  Simon  between  them 
had  explained  the  mysterious  and  fatal  situa- 
tion to  Mr.  Jack  Galpin,  Mr.  Jack  Galpin 
leaned  against  one  of  the  marble  tables  in 
the  waiting-room,  and  roared  with  laughter. 

'  Well,'  observed  Mr.  Galpin,  '  he  didn't 
have  his  Safe  Deposit  built  for  nothing,  any- 
how !' 

And  he  laughed  again. 

'  But  he's  slowly  dying  in  there !'  said 
Simon. 

6  Yes,  I  know,'  said  Mr.  Galpin.  '  That's 
what  makes  it  such  a  good  joke.' 

'  I  don't  see  it,  sir,'  Simon  remarked. 

c  Simply  because  your  sense  of  humour  is  a 
bit  off.  What  are  you  ?' 

'  I  am  Mr.  Hugo's  man.' 

'  My  respects.' 

Mr.  Galpin  had  arrived  with  Inspector 
14?  10—2 


148  HUGO 

Winter,  and  Inspector  Winter  had  intro- 
duced him  as  knowing  more  about  safes 
than  any  other  man  in  England,  or  perhaps 
in  Europe.  After  the  introduction,  Inspector 
Winter,  being  pressed  for  time,  had  departed. 
Mr.  Galpin  was  aged  about  forty,  and  looked 
like  an  extremely  successful  commercial 
traveller.  No  one  would  have  suspected 
that  he  had  recently  done  eighteen  months 
anywhere  but  in  a  first-class  hotel ;  even  his 
thin  hands  were  white,  and  if  his  hair  was 
a  little  short — well,  the  hair  of  very  many 
respectable  persons  is  often  a  little  short. 
It  appeared  that  he  was  under  obligations 
to  Inspector  Winter,  and  anxious  to  oblige. 
The  relations  between  distinguished  law- 
breakers and  distinguished  detectives  are 
frequently  such  as  can  only  exist  between 
artists  who  esteem  each  other.  For  the  rest, 
Mr.  Galpin  had  brought  a  brown  bag. 

'  You  see,  the  time-lock  is  placed  so 
that '  began  the  patrol. 

'  Shut  up  !'  said  Mr.  Galpin  curtly.  '  I 
know  all  that.  I've  got  scale-plans  of  every 
Safe  Deposit  in  London,  and  I  decided  long 
since  that  this  one  was  too  good  to  try.  Of 
course,  with  the  aid  of  the  entire  staff  things 
might  be  a  bit  easier,  but  not  much — not 


MR.  GALPIN  149 

much  !'  he  repeated  scornfully.  *  If  I  can 
manage  a  job  at  all,  I  can  usually  manage  it 
alone,  and  in  spite  of  the  entire  staff.' 

'  I  suppose  you  couldn't  burn  the  door  of  the 
vault  with  oxy-hydrogen  ?'  Simon  suggested. 

'  Yes,  I  could,'  said  Mr.  Galpin  ;  '  and  with 
the  brand  of  steel  used  here  I  should  get 
through  about  this  time  to-morrow.  I  could 
blow  the  bally  vault  up  with  gun-cotton  in 
something  under  two  seconds,  but  no  doubt 
your  Mr.  Hugo  would  go  up  with  it,  and  then 
the  Yard  would  be  angry.  No  !' 

He  hummed  an  air,  and  strolled  out  into 
the  main  corridor  to  stare  at  the  curious  dial 
of  the  time-lock. 

6  Why  not  blow  up  the  clock  of  the  time- 
lock  ?'  ventured  the  patrol. 

'  Look  here  !'  said  Mr.  Galpin,  '  you  ought 
to  know  better  than  that,  even  if  this  other 
gent  doesn't.  Any  violence  to  the  clock 
automatically  jams  all  the  connecting  levers. 
Stop  the  clock,  and  it's  all  up.  Nothing  but 
unbuilding  the  whole  place  would  free  the 
locks  after  that.  And  it  would  be  a  mighty 
smart  firm  that  could  unbuild  this  place 
inside  a  fortnight.  No  !'  he  said  again.  '  No 
gammon  with  the  clock — unless  we  could 
make  it  go  quicker.' 


150  HUGO 

'  Then  there's  nothing,'  Simon  stammered, 

Mr.  Galpin  gazed  at  the  young  man. 

'  Assuming  I  do  the  job,  what's  the  job 
worth  ?'  he  asked. 

'  It's  worth  anything.' 

'  Is  it  worth  a  hundred  pounds  ?' 

'  Yes.' 

'  Cash  ?' 

c  Yes,  I  promise  it.  I  will  hand  you  my 
savings-bank  book  if  you  like.' 

'  I  only  ask  because  I  have  a  sort  of  a 
notion  about  that  clock.  It's  a  pendulum 
clock,  and  you  know  how  fast  a  clock  ticks 
when  you  take  the  pendulum  away,  and  the 
escapement  can  run  free.  It  does  an  hour  in 
about  three  minutes.  Now,  if  I  could  get 
the  pendulum  out  without  alarming  the 
clock  ...  it  would  be  nine  to-morrow  morn- 
ing in  no  time.  See  ?' 

'  I  see  that,'  said  the  patrol.  '  I  see  that. 
But  what  I  don't  see ' 

4  Never  mind  what  you  don't  see,'  Mr.  Jack 
Galpin  murmured.  '  Bring  me  my  bag  out 
of  there.  I  may  tell  you,'  he  went  on  to 
Simon,  '  that  I  thought  of  this  scheme  months 
ago,  just  as  a  pleasant  sort  of  a  fancy,  but 
quite  practical.  It's  a  queer  world,  isn't  it  ?' 

'  Here's  your  bag,'  said  the  patrol. 


MR.  GALPIN  151 

*  Now  you  two  can  just  go  into  the  waiting- 
room,  and  wait  till  I  call  you.  Understand  ? 
And  tell  all  these  wild  beasts  round  here  to 
hold  their  tongues  and  sit  tight.  I  haven't 
got  to  be  disturbed  in  a  job  like  this.  .  .  . 
And  it's  a  hundred  pounds  if  I  do  it,  mister, 
no  more  and  no  less,  eh  ?' 

Within  exactly  twenty-five  minutes  Mr. 
Galpin  entered  the  waiting-room. 

'  See  that  ?'  he  said,  holding  up  a  pendulum. 
'  That's  it.  You  can  come  and  look  now. 
But  I  don't  invite  the  public  to  see  my  own 
private  melting  process.  Not  me  !' 

He  had  burnt  two  holes  through  the  half- 
inch  plate  of  Bessemer  steel  in  which  the 
clock  was  enclosed,  and  by  means  of  two 
pairs  of  tweezers  (which  must  certainly  have 
been  imitated  from  the  armoury  of  a  dentist) 
he  had  detached  the  pendulum  without 
stopping  the  clock.  The  hands  of  the  clock 
could  be  plainly  seen  to  move,  and  its  ticking 
was  furiously  rapid. 

Mr.  Galpin  made  a  calculation  on  his 
dazzling  cuff. 

'  In  three-quarters  of  an  hour  the  clock 
will  have  run  out,'  he  informed  his  audience, 
*  and  you  will  be  able  to  open  any  locks  that 
you've  got  keys  for.  I  shall  call  to-morrow 


152  HUGO 

morning,  young  man,  for  the  swag.  And 
don't  you  forget  that  there's  only  one  Jack 
Galpin  in  the  world.  My  address  is  205,  the 
Waterloo  Road.' 

He  left,  with  his  bag. 

Simon  rushed  to  Vault  39  to  encourage  the 
captive  by  continual  knocking. 

Then  the  messenger-boy,  who  had  been 
despatched  to  obtain  food  for  the  prisoners 
behind  the  various  grilles,  came  back  with 
the  desired  food,  and  with  a  copy  of  the 
Evening  Herald.  The  back  page  of  the 
Herald  bore  Hugo's  immense  advertisement. 
The  front  page  was  also  chiefly  devoted  to 
Hugo.  It  displayed  headings  such  as : 

*  Shocking  Scenes  at  a  Sloane  Street  Sale,' 

*  Women  Injured,'    '  Customers  Complain  of 
Wholesale   Swindling,'   '  Scandalous  Misman- 
agement,' '  The  Hugo  Safe  Deposit  Suddenly 
Closed,'     '  Reported    Disappearance    of    Mr. 
Hugo,'  '  Is  He  a  Lunatic  ?' 

And  when  the  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
had  expired  Simon  and  the  patrol  unlocked 
the  massive  portal  of  Vault  39,  and  swung 
it  open,  fearful  of  what  they  might  see  within. 
And  Hugo,  pale  and  feeble,  but  alive,  stag- 
gered heavily  forward,  and  put  a  hand  on 
Simon's  shoulder. 


MB,.  GALPIN  153 

"  Let  us  get  away  from  this,'  he  whispered, 
as  if  in  profound  mental  agony. 

Ignoring  everything,  he  passed  out  of  the 
impregnable  Safe  Deposit,  with  its  flashing 
steel  walls,  on  Simon's  obedient  arm. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

TEA 

ARRIVED  on  the  ground-floor,  Simon  managed 
to  avoid  the  busy  parts  of  the  establishment, 
but  he  happened  to  choose  a  way  to  Hugo's 
private  lift  which  led  past  the  service-door 
of  the  Hugo  Grand  Central  Restaurant. 
And  Hugo,  although  apparently  in  a  sort 
of  torpor,  noticed  it. 

c  Tea  !'  he  ejaculated.  *  If  I  could  have 
some  at  once  !' 

And  he  directed  Simon  into  the  restaurant, 
and  so  came  plump  upon  one  of  the  worst 
scenes  in  the  entire  place.  The  first  day  of 
the  great  annual  sale  was  closing  in  almost  a 
riot,  and  there  in  the  restaurant  the  primeval 
and  savage  ins4"' nets  of  the  vast,  angry  crowd 
were  naturally  to  be  seen  in  their  crudest 
form.  The  famous  walnut  buffet,  eighty  feet 
in  length,  was  besieged  by  an  army  of  cus- 
tomers, chiefly  women,  who  were  competing 
for  food  in  a  manner  which  ignored  even  the 

154 


TEA  155 

rudiments  of  politeness.  It  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  deny  that  several  scores  of  well- 
dressed  ladies,  robbed  of  their  self-possession 
and  their  lunch  by  delays  and  vexations  and 
impositions  in  the  departments,  were  actually 
fighting  for  food.  The  girls  behind  the  buffet 
remained  nobly  at  their  posts,  but  the  situa- 
tion had  outgrown  their  experience.  Every 
now  and  then  a  crash  of  crockery  or  crystal 
was  heard  over  the  din  of  shrill  voices,  and 
occasionally  a  loud  protest.  Away  from  the 
buffet,  on  the  fine  floor  of  the  restaurant,  a 
few  waitresses  hurried  distracted  and  aimless 
between  the  tables  at  which  sat  irate  and 
scandalized  persons  who  firmly  believed  them- 
selves to  be  dying  of  hunger.  A  number  of 
people  were  most  obviously  stealing  food,  not 
merely  from  the  sideboards,  but  from  their 
fellows.  At  a  table  near  to  the  corner  in 
which  Hugo,  shocked  by  the  spectacle,  had 
fallen  limp  into  a  chair,  was  seated  an  old, 
fierce  man,  who  looked  like  a  retired  Indian 
judge,  and  who  had  somehow  secured  a  cup 
of  tea  all  to  himself.  A  pretty  young  woman 
approached  him,  and  deliberately  snatched 
the  cup  from  under  his  very  nose— and  with- 
out spilling  a  drop.  The  Indian  judge  sprang 
up,  roared  '  Hussy  !'  and  knocked  the  table 


156  HUGO 

over  with  a  prodigious  racket,  then  proceeded 
to  pick  the  table  up  again. 

'  Is  it  like  this  everywhere  ?'  asked  Hugo 
of  Shawn. 

And  Shawn  nodded. 

'  I  might  have  foreseen,'  Hugo  murmured. 

*  I'll  try  to  get  you  some  tea,  sir,'  Shawn 
said,  with  an  attempt  to  be  cheerful. 

'  Don't  leave  me,'  begged  Hugo,  like  a  sick 
child.  '  Don't  leave  me.' 

'  Only  for  a  moment,  sir,'  said  Shawn,  de- 
parting. 

Hugo  felt  that  he  was  about  to  swoon,  that 
he  had  suffered  just  as  much  as  a  man  could 
suffer,  and  that  Fate  was  dropping  the  last 
straw  on  the  camel's  back.  .His  head  fell 
forward.  He  was  beaten  for  that  day  by 
too  many  mysteries  and  too  many  tortures. 
And  then  he  observed  that  the  pretty  young 
woman  who  had  stolen  the  cup  of  tea  from 
the  Indian  judge  was  hastening  towards  him 
with  the  cup  of  tea  in  one  hand  and  several 
pieces  of  bread-and-butter  in  the  other. 

'  Drink  this,  Mr.  Hugo,'  she  whispered, 
standing  over  him.  He  hesitated.  '  Drink 
it,  I  say,  or  must  I  Ihroiv  it  over  you  ?' 

He  sipped,  and  sipped  again,  obediently. 

*  Good,  isn't  it  ?'  she  questioned. 


TEA  157 

He  looked  up  at  her.  He  was  stronger 
already. 

'  It's  very  good,'  he  said,  with  conviction. 
'  Now  a  bit  of  bread-and-butter.  Thanks.' 
Yes,  the  excellence  and  power  of  the  Hugo 
tea  was  not  to  be  denied,  and  he  was  deeply 
glad  in  that  moment  that  he  owned  his 
private  plantations  in  Ceylon.  '  Who  are 
you,  may  I  ask  ?'  he  demanded  of  his  rescuer. 

*  If  you  please,  sir,  I'm  Albert's  wife.' 

*  Albert  ?' 

*  Albert  Shawn,  your  detective,  sir.' 

*  Of  course  you  are  !' 

*  You  gave  us  a  bedroom  suite  for  a  wedding 
present,  sir.' 

'  Of  course  I  did  !  By  the  way,  where' s 
Albert  ?' 

'  He's  had  an  accident  to  his  foot,  and 
couldn't  come  to-day.  You're  less  pale  than 
you  were,  sir.  Take  this  other  piece.' 

Then  Simon  returned,  empty-handed,  and 
Lily's  eye  indicated  to  him  her  real  opinion 
of  the  value  of  a  male  in  a  crisis.  She  asked 
no  questions  concerning  the  events  which  had 
ended  in  Hugo's  collapse.  She  merely  dealt 
with  the  collapse,  and  in  the  intervals  of 
dealing  with  it  she  explained  to  Simon  how 
she  had  waited  and  waited  in  the  dome,  and 


158  HUGO 

then  descended  and  tried  in  vain  to  enter  the 
Safe  Deposit,  and  been  insulted  by  the  mes- 
senger-boy, and  had  finally  drifted  to  the 
restaurant,  where  she  had  caught  sight  of 
Hugo  and  himself,  and  guessed  immediately 
that  something  in  the  highest  degree  unusual 
had  occurred. 

'  Come,'  said  Hugo  at  last,  in  curt  com- 
mand, '  I  am  better.' 

He  had  recovered.  He  was  Hugo  again. 
And  Simon  was  once  more  nothing  but  his  body 
servant,  and  Lily  nothing  but  an  ex-waitress 
who  had  married  rather  well.  He  thanked 
Lily,  and  told  her  to  go  and  look  after  her 
husband  as  well  as  she  had  looked  after  him. 

In  the  dome  Simon  ventured  to  show  him 
the  Evening  Herald.  And,  having  read  it, 
Hugo  nodded  his  head  and  pressed  his  lips 
together.  He  had  ordered  champagne  and 
sandwiches,  and  was  consuming  them,  at  the 
same  time  opening  a  series  of  yellow  enve- 
lopes which  lay  on  a  table.  These  latter  were 
reports  from  his  detective  corps,  which  had 
accumulated  during  the  day. 

'  Get  a  sheet  of  plain  paper,'  he  said  to 
Simon,  '  and  write  this  letter.  Are  you 
ready  ?  Yes,  it  will  do  in  pencil ;  I  even 
prefer  it  in  pencil. 


TEA  159 

' "  DEAB  SIR, 

'  "  I  have  reason  to  think  that  you 
may  be  interested  in  some  extraordinary 
information  which  I  have  in  my  possession 
concerning  Camilla  Tudor,  who  is  supposed 
to  have  been  buried  at  Brompton  Cemetery 
in  July  last  year.  If  I  am  right,  perhaps  you 
will  accompany  the  bearer  to  my  rooms.  At 
present  I  will  not  disclose  my  name. 

'  "  Yours,  etc." 

'  Put  any  initials  you  like.  Address  it  to 
Louis  Ravengar,  Esquire.  Now  listen  to  me. 
Go  down  to  the  auto  garage,  and  choose  a 
good  man  to  take  the  note  instantly  ;  a  second 
man  must  go  with  him.  If  they  bring  back 
Kavengar,  he  is  to  be  taken  to  No.  6,  Blair 
Street,  shown  upstairs,  and  brought  along  the 
bridge-passage  into  the  building.  It  will  be 
quite  dark,  and  he  will  never  guess.  If  neces- 
sary, he  must  be  brought  to  me  by  force, 
once  he  is  inside.  Have  two  or  three  porters 
in  attendance  to  see  to  that.  But  if  it's 
managed  properly,  he'll  come  without  a  sus- 
picion, and  he'll  be  finely  surprised  when  he 
finds  that  the  long  passage  ends  in  just  this 
room.  Come  back  to  me  as  soon  as  you've 
attended  to  that.' 


160  HUGO 

*  Yes,  sir,'  said  Simon,  quite  mystified,  but 
none   the   less    enchanted   to    see    Hugo    so 
actively  the  old  Hugo. 

In  ten  minutes  he  had  returned,  and  was 
beginning  to  relate  new  facts  which  he  had 
learnt  while  downstairs. 

4  Stop  !'  said  Hugo.  '  Don't  worry  me  with 
needless  details.  I  know  enough.  And  don't 
ask  me  any  questions.  We  can't  hope  to 
remedy  the  state  of  affairs  to-day.  Never- 
theless, we  can  do  something  for  to-morrow. 
I  must  have  Mr.  Bentley,the  drapery  manager, 
brought  here  before  six  o'clock.  He  must  be 
found.' 

'  He  is  found,  sir.  He  has  shot  himself  in 
his  house  in  Pimlico  Road.' 

Hugo  started. 

'  Ah  !'  was  all  he  said  at  first.  He  added 
dryly  :  '  Good  !  And  Brown  ?' 

*  I  have  no  news  of  him,  sir.    He's  vanished.' 
'  Telephone  down  to  the  press  department 

that  Mr.  Aked  must  come  up  to  see  me  at 
seven   o'clock  precisely,   and,   in  the  mean- 
time, he  must  secure  an  extra  half -page  in  all 
to-morrow's  papers.' 
'  Yes,  sir.' 

*  And   after   closing-time   the   entire    staff 
must  assemble,  the  men  in  the  carpet-rooms, 


TEA  161 

and  the  women  in  the  central  restaurant — or 
what's  left  of  it.  I  shall  speak  to  them. 
Have  notices  put  in  the  common-rooms.' 

'  Yes,  sir.' 

4  And  send  me  all  the  buyers  from  the 
drapery  department.  They  must  go  round 
and  buy  every  silvered  fox-stole  in  London 
to-night,  at  no  matter  what  price.' 

'  Certainly,  sir.' 

4  And  telephone  to  Y.Z.  that  I  shall  be 
down  there  as  soon  as  I  can  about  these 
things.' 

He  touched  the  pile  of  yellow  envelopes. 
Y.Z.  was  the  name  always  given  to  the 
detectives'  private  room. 

6  Precisely,  sir.' 

4  That's  all.' 

Simon  Shawn  gathered  that  his  master  had 
a  very  definite  clue  to  the  origin  of  the  unique 
and  fatal  events  of  that  day,  and  that  all 
dark  places  were  about  to  be  made  light 
with  a  blinding  light. 


11 


CHAPTER  XV 

RAVENGAB  IN   CAPTIVITY 

*  RAVENGAB,  what  a  fool  you  are  !' 

The  dome  was  in  darkness.  Hugo?  who 
stood  concealed  near  the  switch,  turned  on 
all  the  lights  as  soon  as  he  had  uttered  this 
singular  greeting,  and  stepped  forward.  He 
had  decided  to  kill  Ravengar.  The  desire  to 
murder  was  in  his  heart,  and  in  order  to  give 
all  his  instincts  full  play  he  had  chosen  a 
theatrical  method  of  welcoming  his  victim 
into  the  fastness  from  which  he  was  never 
to  escape. 

c  D n  !'  exclaimed  Ravengar,  evidently 

astounded  to  the  uttermost  to  find  himself  in 
Hugo's  dome,  and  in  the  presence  of  Hugo. 

He  sprang  back  to  the  door  of  the  dressing- 
room  by  which  he  had  so  unsuspectingly 
entered. 

*  What  a  fool  you  are  to  fall  into  a  trap  so 
simple  !  No  ;  don't  try  to  get  away.  You 

162 


RAVENGAR  IN  CAPTIVITY       163 

can't.  That  door  is  locked  now.  And,  more- 
over, I  have  a  revolver  here,  and  also  a  pair 
of  handcuffs,  which  I  shall  use  if  I  have  any 
trouble  with  you.' 

Ravengar  gazed  at  his  captor,  irresolute. 
His  clean-shaven  upper  lip  seemed  longer 
than  ever,  and  his  short  gray  beard  and  gray 
locks  gave  him  an  appearance  of  sanctimony 
which  not  even  his  sinister  eyes  could  destroy. 
Then  he  sat  down  on  a  chair. 

'  I  should  like  to  know '  he  began, 

trying  to  speak  steadily. 

'  You  would  like  to  know,'  Hugo  took  him 
up,  *  why  I  am  here  alive,  instead  of  being 
in  that  vault,  suffocated.  It  was  a  pretty 
dodge  of  yours  to  get  me  down  there.  You 
counted  on  my  curiosity  about  the  Tudor 
mystery.  You  felt  sure  I  should  yield  to 
the  temptation.  And  I  did  yield.  You  were 
right.  I  was  prepared  to  commit  a  breach 
of  faith  in  order  to  satisfy  that  curiosity. 
No  sooner  was  the  door  closed  on  me  by  that 
scoundrel  Brown,  and  I  found  the  vault  not 
Polycarp's  vault  at  all,  than  I  knew  to  a 
certainty  that  you  were  at  the  bottom  of  the 
affair.  So  easy  to  make  out  afterwards  that 
it  was  an  accident !  So  easy  to  spirit  Brown 
away !  So  easy  to  explain  everything !  Why, 

11—2 


164  HUGO 

Ravengar,  you  intended  to  murder  me !  I 
saw  the  whole  scheme  in  a  flash.  You  have 
corrupted  many  of  my  servants  to-day.  But 
you  didn't  corrupt  all  of  them.  And  because 
you  didn't,  because  you  couldn't,  I  am  alive. 
You  would  like  to  know  how  I  got  out.  But 
you  will  never  know,  Ravengar.  You  will 
die  without  knowing.' 

Ravengar  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

*  I  can  only  assume  that  you  are  going 
mad,  Owen,'  said  he.  '  I  have  long  guessed 
that  you  were.  Nothing  else  will  explain 
this  extraordinary  action  of  yours  towards 


me.' 


'  You  act  well,'  replied  Hugo,  sitting  down 
and  eyeing  Ravengar  critically.  '  You  act 
well.  But  you  gave  the  whole  show  away  by 
the  tone  in  which  you  swore  two  minutes  ago. 
If  there  is  anyone  mad  in  this  room,  it  is  your- 
self. Your  schemes  show  that  queer  mixture 
of  amazing  ingenuity  and  amazing  folly  which 
is  characteristic  of  madmen.  Let  us  hope  you 
are  mad,  at  any  rate.' 

'  My  schemes  !'  sneered  Ravengar.  '  You 
might  at  least  tell  the  madman  what  his 
schemes  are.' 

Hugo  laughed. 

*  You  must  have  been  maturing  the  day's 


EAVENGAR  IN  CAPTIVITY       165 

business  quite  a  long  time,  my  boyhood's 
companion,  my  floater  of  public  companies, 
my  pearl  of  financiers.  Yes,  decidedly  parts 
of  it  were  wonderfully  ingenious.  To  sow 
the  place  with  pickpockets,  to  get  at  my 
cashiers,  my  commissionaires,  and  my  servers. 
To  substitute  your  own  false  shopwalkers  for 
the  genuine  article.  To  arrange  for  the  arrest 
of  important  customers  on  preposterous 
charges  of  theft.  To  lock  up  a  hundred 
women  in  a  gallery  till  they  nearly  died. 
To  have  my  best  and  most  advertised  bar- 
gains removed  in  the  night.  To  deprive  the 
restaurants  of  food,  and  to  employ  women 
to  turn  them  upside  down.  To  produce,  as 
you  contrived  to  do,  a  general  air  of  pande- 
monium, and  to  ruin  the  discipline  of  over 
three  thousand  of  the  best-trained  employes 
in  England.  All  this,  and  much  else  which 
I  do  not  mention,  was  devilish  clever  in  its 
conception,  and  the  execution  of  it  commands 
my  unqualified  admiration.  Especially  having 
regard  to  the  fact  that  you  contrived  not  to 
arouse  my  suspicions.  I  may  tell  you  that 
certain  strange  incidents  which  occurred  in 
my  establishment  during  the  autumn  did 
indeed  lead  me  vaguely  to  suspect  that  you 
were  at  work  against  me,  but  you  were  suffi- 


166  HUGO 

ciently  smart  to  put  me  off  the  track  again. 
Let  me  add  that  until  this  afternoon  I  did 
not  perceive  that  your  purchase  of  a  con- 
trolling share  in  the  Evening  Herald  was  only 
a  portion  of  a  mightier  plan.' 

'Really,  Owen ' 

6  Don't  waste  your  breath  in  denials.  You 
will  have  none  at  all  presently,  like  Bentley.' 

'  Bentley  ?'  repeated  Ravengar,  with  a  slight 
movement. 

'  Yes  ;  but  we  will  come  to  Bentley  in  a  few 
minutes.  I  have  enlarged  to  you  on  your  own 
cleverness.  I  must  enlarge  to  you  on  your 
folly.  What  folly  !  What  was  the  end  of  all 
this  to  be,  Ravengar  ?  I  have  tried  to  put 
myself  in  your  place,  and  to  follow  your 
thoughts.  You  hate  me.  You  think  I  robbed 
you  of  a  fortune,  and  that  I  helped  to  rob  you 
of  a  woman.  You  wished  to  buy  my  business, 
and  add  it  to  the  roll  of  your  companies. 
And  I  deprived  you  of  that  triumph.  Your 
hatred  of  me  grew  and  grew.  Leading  a 
solitary  and  narrow  life,  you  allowed  it  to 
develop  into  a  species  of  monomania.  I  had 
come  out  on  top  once  too  often  for  your  peace 
of  mind.  In  your  opinion  the  world  was  too 
small  to  hold  both  of  us.  Accordingly,  you 
evolved  your  terrific  campaign.  My  business 


RAVENGAR  IN  CAPTIVITY       167 

was  to  be  seriously  damaged.  And  I  was  to 
be  murdered.  And  then  you  were  to  get  the 
concern  cheap  from  my  executors,  and  to 
float  me  dead  since  you  could  not  float  me 
living.  What  folly,  Ravengar  !  What  stu- 
pendous folly !  Even  if  the  fanciful  and 
grotesque  scheme  had  succeeded  as  far  as 
my  death,  it  could  not  have  succeeded  beyond 
that  point.' 

'  I  don't  know  what  you  are  chattering 
about,  Owen,  but  you  look  as  if  you  expected 
me  to  ask,  "  Why  ?"  Anything  to  oblige  you. 
Why?' 

'  You  would  have  known  the  reason  had 
you  lived  long  enough  to  read  the  provisions 
of  my  will,'  said  Hugo. 

'  I  see,'  said  Ravengar. 

*  You  do,'  said  Hugo.     '  You  see,  you  hear, 
you  breathe,  but  Bentley  doesn't.     Bentley 
has  killed  himself.'     (Ravengar  started.)    '  So 
that  if  you  have  not  my  blood  on  your  con- 
science, you  have  his.     You  tempted  him  ;  he 
fell  .  .  .  and  he  has  repented.     Admit  that 
you  tempted  him  !' 

Ravengar  smiled  superiorly.  And  then 
Hugo  sprang  forward  in  a  sudden  over- 
mastering passion. 

*  Hate  breeds  hate,'  he  cried,  *  and  I  have 


168  HUGO 

learnt  from  you  how  to  hate.  Admit  that 
you  have  tried  to  ruin  and  to  murder  me, 
or,  by  G —  !  I  will  kill  you  sooner  than  I 
intended.' 

He  had  no  weapon  in  his  hands ;  the  re- 
volver was  in  a  drawer ;  but  nevertheless 
Ravengar  shrank  from  those  menacing  hands. 

4  Look  here,  Hugo ' 

'  Will  you  admit  it  ?    Or  shall  I  have  to ' 

Their  wills  met  in  a  supreme  conflict. 

'  Oh,  very  well,  then,'  muttered  Ravengar. 

The  conflict  was  over. 

Hugo  returned  to  his  chair. 

*  Miserable  cur  !'  he  exclaimed.  c  You  were 
afraid  of  me.  I  knew  I  could  frighten  you. 
I  would  have  liked  to  be  able  to  admire  some- 
thing more  than  your  ingenuity.  Ravengar, 
I  do  believe  I  could  have  forgiven  your 
attempt  to  murder  me  if  it  had  not  included 
an  attempt  to  dishonour  me  at  the  same  time. 
There  is  something  simple  and  grand  about  a 
straightforward  murder — I  shall  prove  to  you 
soon  that  I  do  not  always  regard  murder  as  a 
crime — but  to  murder  a  man  amid  circum- 
stances of  shame,  to  finish  him  off  while 
making  him  look  a  fool — that  is  the  act  of  a — 
of  a  Ravengar.' 

Ravengar  yawned  and  glanced  at  his  watch. 


RAVENGAR  IN  CAPTIVITY       169 

,   'It's  nearly  my  dinner-time,'  said  he. 

Again  Hugo  sprang  forward,  and,  snatching 
at  the  watch,  tore  it  and  the  chain  from 
Ravengar' s  waistcoat,  dashed  them  to  the 
floor,  and  stamped  on  them.  He  was  amazed, 
and  he  was  also  delighted,  at  his  own  fury. 
The  lust  of  destruction  had  got  hold  of  him. 

'  Ass !'  he  murmured,  suddenly  lowering  his 
voice.  '  Can't  you  guess  what  I  mean  to  do  ?' 

*  I  cannot,'  Ravengar  stammered. 

*  I  mean  to  put  you  to  the  same  test  to 
which   you   put   me.     You  arranged   that   I 
should  spend  twenty -two  hours  in  a  vault 
without  ventilation.     At  the  end  of  five  hours 
I  was  by  no  means  dead.     I  might  have  sur- 
vived the  twenty-two.     But,  frankly,  I  don't 
fancy  I  should.     And  I  don't  fancy  you  will. 
In  fact,  I'm  convinced  that  you  won't.' 

*  Indeed  !'  said  Ravengar  uncertainly. 

'  You  think  this  scene  is  not  real,'  Hugo 
continued.  '  You  think  it  can't  be  real.  You 
refuse  to  credit  the  fact  that  this  time  to- 
morrow you  will  be  dead.  You  refuse  to 
admit  to  yourself  that  I  am  in  earnest — 
deadly,  fatal  earnest.' 

'  Upon  my  soul !'  Ravengar  burst  out, 
standing,  *  I  believe  you  are.' 

'  Good,'  said  Hugo.     '  You  are  waking  up, 


170  HUGO 

positively.  You  are  getting  accustomed  to 
the  unpleasant  prospect  of  not  dying  in  your 
bed  surrounded  by  inconsolable  dependants.' 

'  Hugo,'  Ravengar  began  persuasively, 
'  you  must  be  aware  that  all  these  suspicions 
of  yours  are  a  figment  of  your  excited  brain. 
You  must  be  aware  that  I  never  meant  to 
murder  you.' 

'  My  dear  fellow,'  Hugo  replied  with  calm 
bitterness,  '  /  don't  intend  to  murder  you.  I 
intend  merely  to  put  you  in  that  vault.  Your 
death  will  be  an  accidental  consequence,  as 
mine  would  have  been.  And  why  should  you 
not  die  ?  Can  you  give  me  a  single  good 
reason  why  you  should  continue  to  live  ? 
What  good  are  you  doing  on  the  earth  ? 
Are  you  making  anyone  happy  ?  Are  you 
making  yourself  happy  ?  That  spark  of 
vitality  which  constitutes  your  soul  has 
chanced  on  an  unfortunate  incarnation.  Sup- 
pose that  I  release  it,  and  give  it  a  fresh  oppor- 
tunity, shall  I  not  be  acting  worthily  ?  For 
you  must  agree  that  murder  in  the  strict  sense 
is  an  impossible  thing.  The  immortal  cannot 
die.  Vital  energy  cannot  be  destroyed.  All 
that  the  murderer  does  is  to  end  one  incarna- 
tion and  begin  another.' 

'  So  that  is  your  theory  !' 


RAVENGAR  IN  CAPTIVITY       171 

*  Was  it  not  yours,  when  you  got  me  de- 
posited in  the  vault  ?'  Hugo  demanded  with 
ferocious  irony.  '  I  am  bound  to  believe  that 
it  was.  The  common  outcry  against  murder 
(as  it  is  called)  can  have  no  weight  with  en- 
lightened persons  like  you  and  me,  Ravengar.' 

'  Perhaps  not,'  said  Ravengar,  summoning 
his  powers  of  self-control.  6  But  the  common 
outcry  against  murder  is  apt  to  be  very  in- 
convenient for  the  person  who  chooses,  as  you 
put  it,  to  end  one  incarnation  and  begin 
another.  Has  it  not  struck  you,  Owen,  that 
inquiries  would  be  made  for  me,  that  my  death 
would  be  certain  to  be  discovered,  and  that 
ultimately  you  would  suffer  the  penalty  ?' 

'  My  arrangements  for  the  future  are  far 
more  complete  than  yours  could  have  been  in 
regard  to  me,'  Hugo  answered  smoothly. 
'  You  betrayed  some  clumsiness.  I  shall 
profit  by  your  mistakes.  No  one  will  see  you 
go  into  the  Safe  Deposit  except  myself  and  a 
man  whom  I  can  trust.  No  one  at  all  except 
myself  will  see  you  go  into  the  vault.  I  can 
manage  the  operation  alone.  A  little  chloro- 
form will  quieten  you  for  a  time.  The  vault 
once  closed  will  not  be  opened  during  my 
lifetime,  unless  at  four  o'clock  to-moriow 
night  I  hear  you  knocking  on  the  door.  Of 


172  HUGO 

course,  inquiries  will  be  made,  but  they  will 
be   futile.     People    often    simply    disappear. 
You  will  simply  disappear.' 
The  clock  struck  six. 

*  And   your   conscience  ?'    Ravengar   mut- 
tered. 

'  It's  soon  well  under  control.  Besides,  I 
shall  be  doing  the  human  race,  and  especially 
the  investing  part  of  the  human  race,  a  very 
good  turn.' 

Then  Ravengar  approached  Hugo,  and, 
Hugo  rising  to  meet  him,  their  faces  almost 
touched  in  the  middle  of  the  great  room. 

'  You  called  me  a  cur,'  he  said.  *  Yet 
perhaps  I  am  not  such  a  cur  after  all.  You 
have  beaten  me.  You  mean  to  finish  me ;  I 
can  see  it  in  your  face.  Well,  you  will  regret 
it  more  than  I  shall.  Do  you  know  I  have 
often  wished  to  die  ?  You  are  right  in  saying 
that  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  live.  I 
am  only  a  curse  to  the  world.  But  you  are 
wrong  to  scorn  me  when  you  kill  me.  You 
ought  to  pity  me.  Did  I  choose  my  tempera- 
ment, my  individuality  ?  As  I  am,  so  I  was 
born,  and  from  his  character  no  man  can 
escape.' 

And  he  sat  down,  and  Hugo  sat  down. 

*  When  is  it  to  be  ?'  Ravengar  questioned. 


RAVENGAR  IN  CAPTIVITY       173 

'  In  a  few  minutes,'  said  Hugo  impassively, 
feeding  his  mortal  resentment  on  the  memory 
of  those  hours  when  he  himself  had  waited 
for  death  in  the  vault. 

'  Then  I  shall  have  time  to  ask  you  how  you 
came  to  know  that  Camilla  Payne,  or  rather 
Camilla  Tudor,  is  alive.' 

'  She  is  not  alive,'  Hugo  explained.  '  The 
suggestion  contained  in  my  decoy  letter  was 
a  pure  invention  in  order  to  entice  you.  As 
you  tempted  me  into  the  vault,  so  I  tempted 
you  here  on  your  way  to  the  vault.' 

'  But  she  is  alive  all  the  same  !'  Ravengar 
persisted.  '  It  is  the  fact  that  she  is  not  dead 
that  makes  me  less  unwilling  to  die,  for  a  word 
from  her  might  send  me  to  a  death  more 
shameful  than  the  one  you  have  so  kindly 
arranged  for  me.' 

Hugo  in  that  instant  admired  Ravengar, 
and  he  replied  quite  gently  : 

'  You  are  mistaken.  Where  can  you  have 
got  the  idea  that  she  is  not  dead  ?  She  is 
dead.  I  myself — I  myself  screwed  her  up  in 
her  coffin.' 

The  words  sounded  horrible. 

*  Then  you  were  in  the  plot !'  Ravengar 
cried. 

*  What  plot  ?' 


174  HUGO 

'  The  plot  to  persuade  me  falsely  that  she 
is  dead.  Bah  !  I  know  more  than  you  think. 
I  know,  for  example,  that  her  body  is  not  in 
the  coffin  in  Brompton  Cemetery.  And  I  am 
almost  sure  that  I  know  where  she  is  hiding. 
I  should  have  known  beyond  doubt  before 
to-morrow  morning.  However,  what  does  it 
matter  now  ?' 

'  Not  in  the  coffin  ?'  Hugo  whispered,  as  if 
to  himself.  His  whole  frame  trembled,  shook, 
and  his  heart,  leaping,  defied  his  intellect. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

BURGLARS 

WHEN  at  eleven  o'clock  that  same  winter 
night  Hugo  stood  hesitating,  with  certain 
tools  and  a  hooded  electric  lamp  in  his  hand, 
on  the  balcony  in  front  of  the  drawing-room 
window  of  Francis  Tudor' s  sealed  flat,  he 
thought  what  a  strange,  illogical,  and  capri- 
cious thing  is  the  human  heart. 

He  knew  that  Camilla  was  dead.  He  had 
had  the  very  best  and  most  convincing 
evidence  of  the  fact.  He  knew  that  Raven- 
gar's  suspicions  were  without  foundation, 
utterly  wrong-headed  ;  and  yet  those  state- 
ments of  his  enemy  had  unsettled  him.  They 
had  not  unsettled  the  belief  of  his  intelligence, 
but  they  had  unsettled  his  soul's  peace.  And 
that  curiosity  to  learn  the  whole  truth  about 
the  history  of  the  relations  between  Francis 
Tudor  and  Camilla,  that  curiosity  which  had 
slumbered  for  months,  and  which  had  been 

175 


178  HUGO 

so  suddenly  awakened  by  Ravengar's  lure  of 
the  morning,  was  now  urged  into  a  violent 
activity. 

Nor  was  this  all.  Camilla  was  surely  dead. 
But  supposing  that  by  some  incredible  chance 
she  was  not  dead  (lo  !  the  human  heart), 
could  he  kill  Ravengar  ?  This  question  had 
presented  itself  to  him  as  he  sat  in  the  dome 
listening  to  Ravengar's  asseverations  that 
Camilla  lived.  And  the  mere  ridiculous, 
groundless  suspicion  that  she  lived,  the  mere 
fanciful  dream  that  she  lived,  had  quite 
changed  and  softened  Hugo's  mood.  He  had 
struggled  hard  to  keep  his  resolution  to  kill 
Ravengar,  but  it  had  melted  away ;  he  had 
fanned  the  fire  of  his  mortal  hatred,  but  it  had 
cooled,  and  at  length  he  had  admitted  to 
himself,  angrily,  reluctantly,  that  Ravengar 
had  escaped  the  ordeal  of  the  vault.  And 
this  being  decided,  what  could  he  do  with 
Ravengar  ?  Retain  him  under  lock  and  key  ? 
Why  ?  To  what  end  ?  Such  illegal  cap- 
tivities were  not  practicable  for  long  in 
London.  Besides,  they  were  absurd,  melo- 
dramatic, and  futile.  As  the  moments  passed 
and  the  fumes  of  a  murderous  intoxication 
gradually  cleared  away,  Hugo  had  regained 
his  natural,  sagacious  perspective,  and  he  had 


BURGLARS  177 

perceived  that  there  was  only  one  thing  to  do 
with  Ravengar. 

He  let  Ravengar  go.  He  showed  him 
politely  out. 

It  was  an  anti-climax,  but  the  incalculable 
and  peremptory  processes  of  the  heart  often 
result  in  an  anti-climax. 

The  night  was  cold  and  damp,  as  the 
morning  had  been,  and  Hugo  shivered,  but 
not  with  cold.  He  shivered  in  the  mere 
exciting  eagerness  of  anticipation.  He  had 
chosen  the  drawing-room  window  because  the 
panes  were  very  large.  He  found  it  perfectly 
simple,  by  means  of  the  treacled  cardboard 
which  he  carried,  to  force  in  the  pane  noise- 
lessly. He  pushed  aside  the  blind,  and  crept 
within  the  room.  So  simple  was  it  to  violate 
the  will  of  a  dead  man,  and  the  solemnly 
affixed  seals  of  his  executor  !  He  had  ar- 
ranged that  the  pane  should  be  replaced  before 
dawn,  and  the  new  putty  darkened  to  match 
the  rest.  Thus,  no  trace  would  remain  of  the 
burglarious  entry.  No  seal  on  door  or  window 
would  have  been  broken. 

He  stood  upright  in  the  drawing-room, 
restored  the  blind  and  the  heavy  curtains  to 
their  positions,  and  then  ventured  to  press  the 
button  of  his  lamp.  He  saw  once  more  the 

12 


178  HUGO 

vast  outlines  of  the  room  which  he  had  last 
seen  under  such  circumstances  of  woe.  The 
great  pieces  of  furniture  were  enveloped  hi 
holland  covers,  and  resembled  formless  ghosts 
in  the  pale  illumination  of  the  lamp.  He 
shivered  again.  He  was  afraid  now,  with  the 
fear  of  the  unknown,  the  forbidden,  and  the 
withheld.  Why  was  he  there  ?  What  could 
he  hope  to  discover  ? 

In  answer  to  these  questions,  he  replied : 
*  Why  did  Francis  Tudor  order  that  the  flat 
should  be  closed  ?  He  must  have  had  some 
reason.  I  will  find  it  out.  It  is  essential  to 
my  peace  of  mind  to  know.  I  meant  to 
commit  murder  to-day ;  I  have  only  com- 
mitted burglary.  I  ought  to  congratulate 
myself  and  sing  for  joy,  instead  of  feeling 
afraid.' 

So  he  reassured  his  spirit  as  he  stepped  care- 
fully into  the  midst  of  the  holland-covered 
and  moveless  ghosts.  On  the  mantelpiece  to 
the  left  there  still  stood  the  electric  table- 
light,  and  by  its  side  still  lay  the  screwdriver. 
.  .  .  He  determined  to  pass  straight  through 
the  drawing-room.  At  the  further  edge  of 
the  carpet,  on  the  parquet  flooring  between  the 
carpet  and  the  portiere  leading  to  the  inner 
hall,  he  noticed  under  the  ray  of  his  lamp  foot- 


BURGLARS  179 

prints  in  the  dust — footprints  of  a  man,  and 
smaller  footprints,  either  of  a  woman  or  a 
child.  He  remained  motionless,  staring  at 
them.  Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  during 
the  days  between  the  death  of  its  tenant  and 
the  sealing-up  the  flat  would  probably  not 
have  been  cleaned,  and  that  these  footprints 
must  have  been  made  months  ago  by  the  last 
persons  to  leave  the  flat.  Little  dust  would 
fall  after  the  closing  of  the  flat.  He  was  glad 
that  he  had  thought  of  that  explanation.  It 
was  a  convincing  explanation. 

Nevertheless  he  dared  not  proceed.  For  on 
the  other  mantelpiece  to  the  right  there  was  a 
clock,  and  while  staring  in  the  ghostly  silence 
at  the  footprints,  he  had  fancied  that  his  ear 
caught  the  ticking  of  the  clock.  Imagination, 
doubtless  !  But  he  dared  not  proceed  until 
he  had  satisfied  himself  that  his  ears  had 
deluded  him ;  and,  equally,  he  dared  not 
approach  the  clock  to  satisfy  himself.  He 
could  only  gaze  at  the  reflection  of  the  clock 
in  the  opposite  mirror.  In  the  opposite 
mirror  the  hands  indicated  half  a  minute 
past  nine  ;  hence  the  clock  was  really  at  half 
a  minute  to  three,  and  if  it  was  actually 
going,  it  might  be  expected  to  strike  imme- 
diately. He  waited.  He  heard  a  preliminary 

12—2 


180  HUGO 

grinding  noise  familiar  to  students  of  symp- 
toms in  clocks,  and  in  the  fraction  of  a  second 
he  was  bathed  from  head  to  foot  in  a  cold 
perspiration. 

The  clock  struck  three. 

The  next  instant  he  walked  boldly  up  to 
the  clock  and  bent  his  ear  to  it.  No,  he 
could  hear  nothing.  It  had  stopped.  He 
glared  steadily  at  the  hands  for  two 
minutes  by  his  own  watch ;  they  did  not 
move. 

In  the  back  of  his  head,  in  the  small  of  his 
back,  hi  his  legs,  little  tracts  of  his  epidermis 
tickled  momentarily.  He  wiped  his  face,  and 
walked  boldly  away  from  the  clock  to  the 
portiere,  which  he  lifted  with  one  arm.  Then 
he  threw  the  light  of  his  lamp  direct  on  the 
dial,  and  glared  at  it  again,  fearful  lest  it 
should  have  taken  advantage  of  his  departure 
to  resume  its  measuring  of  eternity. 

Could  a  clock  go  for  four  months  ?  A 
clock  could  be  made  that  would  go  for  four 
months.  But  this  was  not  a  freak-clock.  It 
was  a  large  Louis  Seize  pendule,  and  he  knew 
it  to  be  genuine  of  his  own  knowledge ;  he 
had  bought  it. 

He  dropped  the  portiere  between  himself 
and  the  clock,  and  stood  in  the  inner  hall. 


BURGLARS  181 

He  had  had  as  much  of  the  drawing-room  as 
was  good  for  his  nerves. 

The  inner  hall  was  oblong  in  shape,  and 
measured  about  twelve  feet  at  its  greatest 
width.  In  front  of  him,  as  he  stood  with  his 
back  to  the  drawing-room,  was  a  closed  door, 
which  he  knew  led  into  the  principal  bed- 
room of  the  flat.  To  his  right  another  heavy 
portiere  divided  the  inner  from  the  outer 
hall.  This  portiere  hung  in  straight  perpen- 
dicular folds.  He  wondered  why  the  portieres 
had  not  been  taken  down  and  folded 
away. 

He  decided  to  penetrate  first  into  the  bed- 
room, partly  because  he  deemed  the  bedroom 
might  contain  the  solution  of  the  enigma,  and 
partly  because  his  eye  had  fancied  it  saw  a 
slight  tremor  in  the  portiere  leading  to  the 
outer  hall.  So  he  stepped  stoutly  across  the 
space  which  separated  him  from  the  bedroom 
door.  But  he  had  not  reached  the  door 
before  there  was  a  loud,  sharp  explosion,  and 
a  panel  of  the  door  splintered  and  showed 
a  hole,  and  he  thought  he  heard  a  faint 
cry. 

A  revolver  shot ! 

He  did  not  believe  in  anything  so  far- 
fetched as  man-traps  and  spring-guns.  Hence 


182  HUGO 

there  must  be  some  person  or  persons  in  the 
flat.  Some  unseen  intelligence  was  following 
him.  Some  mysterious  will  had  ordained 
that  he  should  not  enter  that  bedroom.  The 
shot  was  a  warning.  He  guessed  from  the 
flight  of  the  splinters  and  the  appearance  of 
the  hole  that  the  mysterious  will  must  be  on 
the  other  side  of  the  portiere,  but  the  por- 
tiere gave  no  sign. 

What  was  he  to  do  ?  He  had  brought  with 
him  no  weapon.  He  had  not  anticipated  that 
revolvers  would  be  needed  in  the  exploration 
of  an  empty  and  forbidden  flat.  The  very 
definite  terrors  of  the  inner  hall  seemed  to 
him  to  surpass  the  vaguer  terrors  of  the 
drawing-room,  and  he  decided  to  return 
thither  in  order  to  consider  quietly  what  his 
tactics  should  be  ;  if  necessary,  he  could  return 
to  the  dome  for  arms  and  assistance.  But  no 
sooner  did  he  move  a  foot  towards  the  draw- 
ing-room than  another  shot  sounded.  The 
drawing-room  portiere  trembled,  and  some- 
thing crashed  within  the  apartment.  The 
mysterious  will  had  ardently  decided  that  he 
should  go  neither  back  nor  forward. 

'Who's  there?  Who's  that  shooting?' 
he  muttered  thickly,  and  extinguished  his 
lamp. 


BURGLARS  183 

He  had  meant  to  cry  out  loud,  but,  to 
his  intense  surprise,  his  throat  was  dried 
up. 

There  was  no  answer,  no  stir,  no  noise. 
The  silence  that  exists  between  the  stars 
seemed  to  close  in  upon  him.  Then  he  really 
knew  what  fear  was.  He  admitted  to  himself 
that  he  was  unmistakably  and  horribly  afraid. 
He  admitted  that  life  was  inconceivably  pre- 
cious, and  the  instinct  to  preserve  it  the 
greatest  of  all  instincts.  And  gradually  he 
came  to  see  that  the  safest  course  was  the 
most  desperate  course,  and  gradually  his 
courage  triumphed  over  his  fear. 

He  dropped  gently  to  his  hands  and  knees, 
and  began,  with  a  thousand  precautions,  to 
crawl  like  a  serpent  towards  the  outer  halU 
The  darkened  lamp  he  held  between  his  teeth. 
If  the  mysterious  will  fired  again,  the  myste- 
rious will  would  almost  to  a  certainty  fire 
harmlessly  over  his  head.  At  last  his  hands 
touched  the  portiere.  He  hesitated,  listened, 
and  put  one  hand  under  the  portiere.  Then, 
relighting  the  lamp,  he  sprang  up  with  a  yell 
on  the  other  side  of  the  portiere,  and  clutched 
for  the  unseen  intelligence. 

.  But  there  was  nothing.     He  stood  alone  in 
the  outer  hall.     To  his  right  lay  the  side- 


184  HUGO 

passage  between  the  drawing-room  and  the 
cabinet  de  toilette,  which  Camilla  had  used  on 
the  night  of  her  engagement.  In  front  of 
him  was  a  door,  slightly  ajar,  which  led  to 
the  servants'  quarters.  He  gazed  around, 
breathing  heavily. 


CHAPTER  XVH 

POLYCABP  AND   HAWKE'S  MAN 

THEN  it  was  that  he  heard  a  noise,  something 
between  scratching  and  fumbling,  on  the 
further  side  of  the  front-door,  in  the  main 
corridor  of  the  flats.  He  could  see  through 
the  ground  glass  over  the  door  that  the 
corridor  was  lighted  as  usual. 

He  thought :  '  Someone  is  breaking  the 
seal  on  that  door  !'  And  his  next  idea  was  : 
'  Since  the  seal  is  being  broken  in  the  full 
light  of  the  public  corridor,  it  is  being  broken 
by  someone  who  has  the  right  to  break  it. 
Only  one  man  has  the  right,  and  that  man  is 
Francis  Tudor' s  executor,  Senior  Polycarp.' 

The  noise  of  scratching  and  fumbling  ceased, 
and  a  key  was  placed  in  the  lock. 

Hugo  hastily  extinguished  his  lamp,  and 
hid  behind  the  portiere.  Immediately  the 
lamp  was  extinguished  he  observed,  what  he 
had  not  observed  before,  that  a  faint  light 

185 


186  HUGO 

came  through  the  aperture  of  the  door  leading 
to  the  servants'  quarters. 

The  front-door  opened,  and  he  heard  foot- 
steps in  the  hall.  Then  ensued  a  pause.  Then 
the  footsteps  advanced,  and  the  newcomer 
evidently  went  into  the  room  where  the  faint 
light  was. 

*  Come  out  of  that !' 

Yes ;  it  was  Polycarp's  quiet,  mincing, 
imperious  voice. 

c  Come  out  of  it  yourself  !' 

The  answering  tones  were  gruff,  heavy,  full, 
the  speech  of  a  strong  coarse-fibred  man. 

Hugo  peeped  cautiously  through  the  por- 
tiere. Polycarp  was  backing  slowly  out  of 
the  room  into  the  hall,  followed  by  a  tall, 
dark,  scowling  man,  who  bore  an  ordinary 
kitchen  candle.  Polycarp  halted  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor.  The  man  also  halted  ;  he  seemed 
to  be  towering  over  Polycarp  in  an  attitude 
of  menace. 

c  Let  me  pass,'  said  the  man.  '  I've  had 
enough  of  this.' 

Polycarp  smiled  scornfully. 

*  You're  caught,'  said  he.     *  You're  one  of 
Hawke's  men,  aren't  you  ?' 

*  Go  to  h !'  was  the  man's  ferocious 

reply. 


POLYCARP  AND  HAWKE'S  MAN     187 

'  Answer  my  question,  sir.' 

*  What  if  I  am  ?'  the  man  grumbled. 

'  In  five  minutes  you'll  be  in  the  hands  of 
the  police.  I  got  wind  yesterday  of  what 
your  rascally  agency  was  up  to.  You  needn't 
deny  anything.  You're  working  on  behalf  of 
Mr.  Ravengar.  You  know  me  !  Mr.  Raven- 
gar  happens  to  be  a  client  of  mine,  but  after 
to-night  he  will  be  so  no  longer.  What  he 
wants  done  in  this  flat  I  cannot  guess,  but  it's 
an  absolute  certainty  that  you're  in  for  three 
years'  penal,  my  friend.' 

'  Let  me  pass,'  the  man  repeated,  lifting  his 
jaw,  '  or  I'll  blow  your  brains  out  !' 

He  produced  his  revolver. 

'  Oh  no,  you  won't,'  said  Polycarp  coldly. 
*  You  daren't.  You  aren't  on  the  stage,  and 
you  aren't  in  Texas.  And  you  aren't  a  bold 
Bret  Harte  villain.  You're  simply  the  crea- 
ture of  a  private  inquiry  agency,  as  it's  called, 
the  most  miserable  of  trades  !  Usually  you 
spend  your  time  in  manufacturing  divorces, 
but  just  now  you're  doing  something  more 
dangerous  even  than  that,  something  that 
needed  more  pluck  than  you've  got.  I  should 
advise  you  to  come  with  me  quietly.' 

Polycarp  was  in  evening  dress,  and  carried 
a  pair  of  white  gloves.  Hugo  decidedly  ad- 


188  HUGO 

mired  the  old  dandy  as  he  stood  there  gazing 
up  so  condescendingly  at  the  man  with  the 
candle. 

4  Look  here  !'  said  the  man  with  the  candle. 
'  Let  me  pass.  I  don't  want  any  fuss.  I 
want  to  go.  There's  more  in  this  flat  than 
I  bargained  for.  Let  me  pass.' 

6  Give  me  that  revolver,'  Polycarp  smoothly 
demanded. 

'  Curse  it !'  cried  the  man.  '  I'll  give  it 
you !  Hands  up,  you  old  fool !  Do  you 
think  I'm  here  for  fun  ?' 

And  he  raised  the  revolver. 

6 1  shall  not  put  my  hands  up.' 

c  I'll  count  five,'  said  the  man  grimly,  *  and 
if  you  don't * 

6  Count.' 

*  One  !  .  .  .  two !  .  .  .  three !  Can't  you 
see  I  mean  it  ?' 

Hugo  perceived  plainly  the  murderous,  wild 
look  on  the  man's  face.  He  knew  what  it  was 
to  feel  murderous.  He  knew  that  in  a  fit  of 
homicide  all  considerations  of  prudence,  all 
care  for  the  future,  vanish  away,  that  the 
mind  is  utterly  monopolized  by  the  obsession 
of  the  one  single  desire. 

Polycarp  disdainfully  sneered : 

'  Four  !' 


POLYCARP  AND  HAWKE'S  MAN    189 

Hugo  could  withstand  the  strain  no  more. 
He  bounded  out  from  his  concealment,  and 
snatched  the  revolver  from  the  man's  hand. 

'  I  forgot  you,'  growled  the  man,  glancing 
at  him,  disgusted. 

And  so  saying  he  dashed  the  candle  in 
Polycarp's  face  and  knocked  him  violently 
against  Hugo.  Both  Hugo  and  Polycarp  fell 
to  the  ground.  The  man  made  a  leap  for  the 
door,  and  in  a  second  had  fled,  banging  it 
after  him.  Hugo  and  Polycarp  rose  with  stiff 
movements.  Hugo  picked  up  his  lamp,  and 
the  two  confronted  each  other.  It  was  a 
highly  delicate  situation. 

'  Your  life  is,  at  any  rate,  saved,'  said  Hugo 
at  length. 

'  You  think  it  was  in  danger  ?' 

Polycarp's  lip  curled. 

*  I  think  so.' 

*  Possibly  you  foresaw  the  danger  I  ran,' 
Polycarp  remarked  with  frigid  irony,    '  and 
came  into  the  flat  with  the  intention  of  pro- 
tecting me.     May  I  ask  how  you  came  in  ?' 

'  I  came  in  through  the  drawing-room 
window,'  said  Hugo.  *  I  did  not  interfere 
with  your  seals,  however,'  he  added. 

1  You  know  you  are  guilty  of  a  criminal 
offence  ?' 


190  HUGO 

*  I  know  it.' 

*  And  that  I,  as  executor  of  the  late  Francis 
Tudor,  have  a  duty  which  I  must  perform,  no 
matter  how  unpleasant  both  for  you  and  for 
me?' 

'  Just  so.' 

'  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  Do  you 
think  your  conduct  is  worthy  of  a  gentle- 
man ?' 

Hugo  put  the  candle  down  on  a  table,  and 
dug  his  hands  into  his  pockets. 

'  At  this  moment,'  said  he,  c  I  am  not  a 
gentleman.  I  am  just  a  man.  Nothing  else. 
I  will  appeal  to  you  as  another  man.  I  need 
hardly  say  that  I  have  no  connection  with  the 
opposition  firm  ;  I  was  entirely  ignorant  of  the 
presence  of  Hawke's  mission  here  when  I  broke 
into  the  flat.  I  had  no  notion  that  Ravengar 
was  pursuing  investigations  similar  to  mine. 
Mr.  Polycarp,  Ravengar  is,  or  was,  a  client 
of  yours ' 

'  Was.' 

*  Yes,  I  heard  what  you  said  a  few  moments 
ago.     Was   a   client   of  yours.     I   am   sure, 
therefore,  that  no  one  knows  better  than  you 
that  Ravengar  is  not  an  honest  man.     On  the 
other  hand,  I  am  equally  sure  that  on  the  few 
occasions  when  you  and  I  have  met  I  must 


POLYCARP  AND  HAWKE'S  MAN     191 

have  impressed  you  as  a  comparatively  honest 
man.  Is  it  not  so  ?  I  speak  without  false 
modesty.  Is  it  not  so  ?' 

Polycarp  nodded. 

'  Well,  then,'  proceeded  Hugo,  walking 
slowly  about,  '  you  will  probably  need  no 
convincing  that  in  any  difficulty  between  me 
and  Ravengar  I  am  in  the  right.  Now,  there 
have  been,  and  are,  matters  between  Raven- 
gar  and  me  in  which  others  had  best  not 
interfere,  even  indirectly.  I  shall  end  those 
matters  in  my  own  way,  because  I  am  the 
strongest,  and  because  my  hands  are  clean. 
I  can  give  you  no  details.  But  let  me  tell 
you  that  once  the  whole  of  my  life's  dream 
was  in  this  flat,  this  flat  which  you  have 
legally  closed,  and  I  have  illegally  opened. 
Let  me  tell  you  that  my  life,  the  only  part 
of  my  life  for  which  I  cared,  came  to  an  end 
in  this  flat  some  months  ago  and  that  a 
mystery  hangs  over  that  event  which  has 
lately  made  intolerable  even  the  dead-alive 
existence  which  Fate  had  left  to  me.  Let 
me  tell  you  that  circumstances  have  arisen 
this  very  day  which  rendered  it  impossible 
for  me  to  keep  myself  out  of  this  flat,  be  the 
penalty  what  it  might.  And,  finally,  let  me 
make  my  appeal  to  you.' 


192  HUGO 

*  What  do  you  want  ?'  asked  Polycarp 
quietly.  The  sincerity  of  Hugo's  emotion 
had  touched  him.  '  Don't  ask  me  to  act 
contrary  to  my  duty.' 

'  But  that  is  just  what  I  shall  ask  !'  Hugo 
exclaimed.  e  Leave  me.  Leave  me  till  to- 
morrow :  that  is  my  sole  wish.  What  is  your 
duty,  after  all  ?  Tudor  is  dead.  He  is 
beyond  the  reach  of  harm.  He  requires  the 
protection  of  no  lawyer.  Trust  me,  and  leave 
me.  I  am  an  honest  man.  Forget  your  law, 
forget  your  parchments,  forget  the  conven- 
tions of  society,  forget  everything  except  that 
you  are  human,  and  can  do  a  service  to  a 
fellow-creature.  Exercise  some  imagination, 
and  see  how  artificial  and  absurd  is  the  world 
of  ideas  in  which  you  live.  Listen  to  your 
heart,  and  help  me.  I  am  worth  it.  Can't 
you  see  how  I  suffer  ?  To-day  I  have  been 
through  as  much  as  I  can  stand.  I  am  at  the 
end  of  my  forces,  and  I  must  have  sympathy. 
You  will  be  guilty  of  deliberate  neglect  of 
duty  in  leaving  me  here,  but  I  implore  you 
to  leave  me.  And  I  give  no  specific  reason 
why  you  should.  Will  you  V 

There  was  a  silence. 

'  Yes,'  said  Polycarp. 

*  I  thank  you.* 


POLYCARP  AND  HAWKE'S  MAN     193 

*  I  don't  know  why  I  should  consent,'  Poly- 
carp  continued,  '  but  I  do.     I  am  quite  in  the 
dark.     Legally,  I  am  a  disgrace  to  my  pro- 
fession.    I   forfeit   my   professional   honour. 
But  I  will  consent.     Do  what  you  like.     Go 
out  as  you  came  in  and  leave  no  trace.       If, 
however ' 

4  Don't  trouble  to  say  that,'  Hugo  inter- 
rupted him.  '  I  shall  take  no  unfair  advan- 
tage of  your  generosity.  The  flat  and  all  its 
contents  are  absolutely  safe  in  my  hands. 
And  if  you  should  decide,  in  the  future,  that 
I  must  accept  the  consequences  of  to-night's 
work,  I  shall  not  shuffle.  All  I  want  is  to  be 
left  alone  now.' 

Polycarp  opened  the  door. 

'  Good-night,'  he  said.  '  Perhaps  you  did 
save  my  life.  But  if  you  had  appealed  on 
that  account  to  my  gratitude  I  should  have 
been  obliged  to  refuse  your  request.' 

'  I  know  it,'  said  Hugo.  c  I  knew  whom  I 
was  talking  to.  Good-night,  and  thanks.' 

'  I  shall  lock  this  door,'  Polycarp  called  out, 
departing. 

'  Yes,  do ;  and,  I  say,  you'll  lay  hands  on 
that  man  of  Hawke's  easily  enough  in  a  day 
or  two.' 

*  Oh,   certainly,'   said  Polycarp.     '  I  have 

13 


194  HUGO 

not  forgotten  him.     But  I  was  compelled  to 
deal  with  you  first.' 

Twisting  his  white  moustache,  and  button- 
ing his  overcoat  across  the  vast  acreage  of 
his  shirt-front,  Polycarp  disappeared  from 
Hugo's  view  into  the  corridor. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

HUSBAND    AND     WIFE 

HUGO  bolted  the  front-door  on  the  inside, 
relighted  the  candle  which  Hawke's  man  had 
used  as  a  weapon,  and  placed  it  in  the  middle 
of  the  hall  floor.  He  then  penetrated  into 
the  servants'  part  of  the  flat,  and  emerged 
on  to  the  balcony  by  the  small  side-door, 
which  was  open,  and  had  evidently  been 
forced  by  Hawke's  man.  And  there,  on  the 
balcony,  he  leaned  over  the  balustrade  in  the 
cold  humid  night,  and  tried  to  recover  his 
calmness.  He  felt  that  any  systematic, 
scientific  search  of  the  premises  would  be 
impossible  to  him  until  his  mind  resembled 
somewhat  less  a  sea  across  which  a  hurricane 
has  just  passed. 

Many  questions  stood  ready  to  puzzle  his 
brain,  but  he  ignored  them  all,  and  fell  into 
a  vague  reverie,  of  which  Camilla  was  the 
centre.  And  from  this  reverie  he  was  sud- 

195  13—2 


196  HUGO 

denly  startled  by  the  clear,  unmistakable 
sound  of  a  door  being  shut  within  the  flat. 
It  was  not  the  shutting  of  a  door  by  the 
wind,  but  the  careful,  precise  shutting  of  a 
door  by  some  person  who  had  a  habit  of 
shutting  doors  as  doors  ought  to  be  shut. 

'  Polycarp  has  returned !'  was  his  first 
thought.  But  he  remembered.  c  No !  I 
bolted  the  front-door  on  the  inside.' 

The  conundrum  of  the  clock  and  of  the  two 
sizes  of  footprints  in  the  drawing-room  re- 
curred to  him.  Without  allowing  himself  to 
hesitate,  he  strode  back  again  into  the  flat, 
with  a  sort  of  unbreathed  sigh,  an  unuttered 
complaint  against  circumstances  for  not  giving 
him  an  instant's  peace. 

The  candle  was  still  placidly  burning  in  the 
hall,  but  its  position  had  certainly  been 
shifted  by  at  least  three  feet.  It  was  much 
nearer  the  portiere  leading  to  the  inner  hall. 
Hugo  listened  intently.  Not  a  sound  !  And 
he  stared  interrogatively  at  the  candle  as 
though  the  candle  were  a  guilty  thing. 

However,  he  now  possessed  the  revolver 
01  Hawke's  man,  and  this  gave  him  confi- 
dence. He  left  the  perambulating  candle  to 
itself,  and  proceeded  to  the  inner  hall  by  the 
light  of  his  own  electric  lamp.  The  door  of 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE  197 

the  principal  bedroom,  which  he  had  originally 
meant  to  invade,  lay  to  his  right ;  the  entrance 
to  the  drawing-room  lay  to  his  left.  He 
thought  he  would  take  another  look  at  the 
drawing-room,  and  then  he  thought : 

6  No  ;  I'll  tackle  the  bedroom.' 

And  he  seized  the  handle  of  the  bedroom 
door.  At  the  first  trial  it  would  not  turn, 
but  in  a  moment  it  turned  a  little,  and  then 
turned  back  against  his  pressure. 

*  Someone's  got  hold  of  it  inside  !'  he  said 
to  himself. 

He  put  the  lamp  on  a  chair,  and  took  the 
revolver  from  his  pocket  in  readiness  for  any 
complications  that  might  follow  his  forcing 
of  the  door. 

Then  he  heard  a  woman's  voice  within  the 
bedroom. 

'  I  shall  open  it,  Alb,  if  you  kill  me  for  it. 
I  don't  care  who  it  is.  You  may  be  dying 
of  loss  of  blood.  In  fact,  I'm  sure  you  are.' 

And  the  door  was  pulled  wide  open  with  a 
single  sweeping  movement,  and  Hugo  beheld 
the  figure,  slightly  dishevelled  and  more  than 
slightly  perturbed,  of  Mrs.  Albert  Shawn. 

'  Oh,  Alb  !'  cried  Lily.  *  It's  Mr.  Hugo  ! 
Oh,  Mr.  Hugo  !  whatever  next  will  happen  in 
this  world  ?' 


198  HUGO 

The  swift  loosing  of  the  tension  of  Hugo's 
nerves  was  too  much  for  his  self-possession. 
He  burst  into  a  peal  of  loud  laughter.  It  was 
unnaturally  loud,  it  was  hysterical ;  but  it 
was  genuine  laughter,  and  it  did  him  good. 

Lily  straightened  herself.  So  far,  she  had 
not  admitted  Hugo  into  the  chamber. 

'  It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  laugh  like  that, 
Mr.  Hugo,'  she  protested  sharply ;  '  but  per- 
haps you  don't  know  that  you've  nearly 
killed  my  husband  with  that  there  revolver. 
The  shot  came  through  the  door,  and  took 
him  in  the  arm  just  as  he  was  emptying  this 
safe.' 

Hugo  saw  Albert  Shawn  lying  on  the 
stripped  bed,  a  handkerchief  tied  round  his 
arm,  and  in  the  corner  near  the  door  a  large 
safe  opened,  and  its  contents  in  a  heap  on 
the  floor. 

'  It's  all  right,  sir,'  said  Albert ;  '  come  in. 
I'm  nowhere  near  croaking.  I  didn't  know 
you  were  on  this  lay  as  well  as  me,  sir.  I 
thought  I  was  going  to  come  down  on  you 
to-morrow  with  a  surprise  like  a  thousand  of 
bricks.' 

'  What  lay,  Albert  ?'  asked  Hugo,  advancing 
into  the  room. 

4  The  secret-finding  lay,  sir,'  said  Albert. 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE  199 

*  Your  wife  has  the  right  to  be  anxious 
about  you,'  Hugo  observed,  after  a  pause. 
'  But  you  don't  seem  to  be  quite  dying, 
Shawn  ;  and  I  think  it  will  be  as  well  if 
you  explain  to  me  why  you  have  adopted 
the  profession  of  burglar.  It  is  extremely 
singular  that  there  should  have  been  three 
burglars  here  to-night.  You,  and  then 
me ' 

'  What  did  I  tell  you,  Alb  ?'  Mrs.  Albert 
Shawn  exclaimed.  *  Didn't  I  tell  you  I 
heard  a  scuffle  ?' 

'  The  scuffle  was  between  me  and  No.  3. 
And  be  it  known  to  you,  Mrs.  Shawn,  that 
the  revolver  was  not  fired  by  me,  but  by 
No.  3.  I  took  it  off  him,  afterwards.' 

'  Then  No.  3  must  have  come  on  behalf  of 
Mr.  Ravengar,  sir,'  said  Albert. 

'  You  are  no  doubt  right,'  Hugo  agreed. 
*  But  how  did  you  know  that  ?' 

'  Hawke's  Detective  Agency,  sir.  I  found 
out  before  my  wedding  that  one  of  their  men 
had  been  hanging  about  here,  so  I  chummed 
up  to  him.  I  spun  him  a  yarn  how  I'd  been 
with  Hawke's  once,  and  they  gave  me  the 
bag,  and  I  wasn't  satisfied,  and  he'd  got  a 
lot  of  grievances  against  Hawke's,  too,  he 
had.  We  got  very  friendly.  Pity  I  had  to 


200  HUGO 

leave  the  thing  for  my  wedding.     But  I  came 
back  after  a  week.' 

'  Yes,  that  he  did,  sir,'  said  Lily  proudly, 

*  and  insisted  on  it.' 

'  I  soon  knew  they  were  going  to  burglarize 
this  flat  to  get  some  phonograph  records.' 

'  Phonograph  records  !'  Hugo  repeated,  pon- 
dering. 

'  Yes,  sir ;  and  so  I  thought  I'd  be  before- 
hand with  'em.' 

4  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  directly  you 
knew?' 

*  You  gave  me  that  Gaboriau  book  to  read, 
sir,  and  I  learnt  a  lot  from  it.     It's  put  me 
up  to  a  power  of  things.    And,  amongst  others, 
that  two  people  can't  manage  one  job.     One 
job,  one  man.' 

'  You'll    excuse    Albert,    sir,'    said    Lily ; 

*  that's  only  his  way  of  talking.' 

'  It  was  simply  this,  sir.  I  found  out 
enough  to  make  me  as  sure  as  eggs  is  eggs 
that  you'd  like  to  have  those  phonograph 
records  yourself,  without  having  to  inquire 
too  much  where  they  came  from  or  how  they 
came.' 

' 1  see.' 

*  Exactly,  sir.     Well,  to  cut  a  long  story 
short,  sir,  I  happened  to  come  across  some- 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE  201 

thing  yesterday  that  made  me  think  that  the 
annual  sale  was  going  to  be  interfered  with 
by  parties  unknown.  But  I'd  got  all  I  could 
manage,  and  I  left  that  alone  ;  I'd  no  time 
for  it.  And  last  night  parties  unknown  tried 
to  break  my  leg  for  me  with  an  open  cellar- 
flap.  I  knew  it  was  a  plant,  and  so  I  pre- 
tended it  had  succeeded.' 

'  He  made  me  think  his  ankle  was  that 
sprained  he  couldn't  walk.  He  wouldn't 
trust  even  me,  sir,'  said  Lily. 

'  Gaboriau,'  Albert  explained  briefly.  '  I 
knew  I  was  watched,  and  I  told  Lily  to  tell 
the  milkman  I  couldn't  walk.  It  was  all 
over  Radipole  Road  at  eight  o'clock  this 
morning.  And  so,  while  parties  unknown 
thought  I  was  fast  on  a  sofa,  I  slipped  out 
by  the  back-door  as  soon  as  I'd  sent  Lily 
here  to  warn  you  about  the  annual  sale,  in 
case  of  necessity.  I  must  say  I  thought  I 
should  be  twenty-four  hours  in  front  of 
Hawke's  men,  but  I  expect  they  changed 
their  plans.  I  brought  Lily  along  with  me 
at  the  last  moment.  She's  read  Gaboriau, 
too,  sir,  and  she's  mighty  handy.' 

*  I  am  aware  of  it,'  said  Hugo. 

'  Anyhow,  we  got  in  here  first,  by  the  side- 
door  on  the  balcony.  Hawke's  man  must 


202  HUGO 

have  come  in  about  an  hour  after  us,  and 
you  just  after  him.  That's  how  I  reckon  it.' 

'  You  went  into  the  drawing-room,  didn't 
you  ?'  Hugo  asked. 

'  Just  looked  in.' 

'  And  played  with  the  clock  ?' 

Here  he  glanced  sternly  at  Lily. 

'  I  shook  it  to  start  it,  sir,  to  see  if  it  would 
go,'  Lily  admitted. 

'  I  reckon  you  turned  out  Hawke's  man, 
sir  ?'  Albert  queried. 

'  It  amounted  to  that,'  said  Hugo.  *  But 
these  phonograph  records — what  are  they  ?' 

'  I  don't  know  what  they  are,'  said  Albert, 
descending  from  the  bed,  '  but  I  know  that 
Mr.  Raveugar  wanted  them  very  badly.  It 
seems  Mr.  Tudor  was  a  great  hand  at  phono- 
graphs and  gramophones.  Like  me,  sir.' 

'  Yes,  sir  ;  we've  got  a  beauty.  My  uncle 
gave  it  us,'  Lily  put  in.  '  Oh,  Alb  !  your 
arm's  all  burst  out  again.' 

The  bandage  was,  in  fact,  slightly  dis- 
coloured. 

'  Oh,  that's  nothing,  my  dear,'  said  Albert. 

He  pushed  up  a  pile  of  discs  from  in  front 
of  the  safe,  and  displayed  them  to  Hugo. 

'  Can  we  try  them  here  ?'  Hugo  demanded, 
in  a  voice  suddenly  and  profoundly  eager. 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE  203 

*  Certainly,  sir.     Here's  the  machine.     You 
undo  this  catch,  and  then  you ' 

Albert  was  mounted  on  his  latest  hobby, 
and  in  a  few  minutes,  although  he  could  only 
use  one  arm,  the  phonograph,  which  stood  on 
the  table  near  the  safe,  was  ready  for  its  work 
of  reproduction.  Albert  started  it. 

*  Follow  me,  follow  me  !' 

It  began  to  sing  the  famous  ditty  in  the 
famous  voice  of  Miss  Edna  May. 

*  Stop  that !'  cried  Hugo,  and  Albert  stopped 
it. 

The  next  two  discs  proved  to  be  respectively 
a  series  of  stories  of  Mr.  R.  G.  Knowles  and 
'  The  Lost  Chord,'  played  on  a  cornet.  And 
these  also  were  cut  short.  Then  came  a 
bundle  of  discs  tied  together.  Hugo  himself 
fixed  the  top  one,  and  the  machine,  after 
whirring  inarticulately,  said  in  slow,  clear 
tones: 

*  In  case  I  should  die  before        * 
Hugo  arrested  the  action. 

'  Go,'  he  said,  almost  threateningly,  to 
Albert  and  his  wife.  '  Mrs.  Shawn,  look  after 
your  husband's  wound.  It  needs  it.  See  the 
blood !' 

'But ' 

*  Go,'  said  Hugo. 


204  HUGO 

And  they  went. 

And  when  they  were  gone  he  released  the 
mechaaism,  and  in  the  still  solitude  of  the 
bedroom  listened  to  the  strange  story  of 
Francis  Tudor,  related  in  Francis  Tudor 's 
own  voice.  It  occurred  to  him  that  the  man 
must  have  been  talking  into  a  phonograph 
shortly  before  he  died.  He  remembered  the 
monotonous  voice  on  that  fatal  night  in 
August. 


v. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WHAT   THE   PHONOGRAPH   SAID 

IN  case  I  should  die  before  I  can  complete  my 
arrangements  for  the  future  (said  the  phono- 
graph, reproducing  the  voice  of  Francis 
Tudor),  I  am  making  a  brief  statement  of  the 
whole  case  into  this  phonograph.  I  am 
exhausted  with  to-day's  work,  and  I  shall  find 
it  easier  and  much  quicker  to  speak  than  to 
write  ;  and  I'm  informed  that  I  ought  never  to 
exert  myself  more  than  is  necessary.  Sup- 
posing I  were  to  die  within  the  next  few  days 
— and  I  have  yet  to  go  through  the  business 
of  the  funeral  ceremonies  ! — circumstances 
might  arise  which  might  nullify  part  of  my 
plan,  unless  a  clear  account  of  the  affair  should 
ultimately  come  into  the  hands  of  some  person 
whom  I  could  trust  not  to  make  a  fool  of 
himself — such  as  Polycarp,  my  solicitor,  for 
instance. 

Hence  I  relate  the  facts  for  a  private  record. 

205 


206  HUGO 

When  I  first  met  Camilla  Payne  she  was 
shorthand  clerk  or  private  secretary,  or  what- 
ever you  call  it,  to  Louis  Ravengar.  I  saw 
her  in  his  office.  Curiously,  she  didn't  make 
a  tremendous  impression  on  me  at  the 
moment.  By  the  way,  Polycarp,  if  it  is 
indeed  you  who  listen  to  this,  you  must  excuse 
my  way  of  relating  the  facts.  I  can  only  tell 
the  tale  in  my  own  way.  Besides  meddling 
with  finance,  I've  dabbled  in  pretty  nearly  all 
the  arts,  including  the  art  of  fiction,  and  I 
can't  leave  out  the  really  interesting  pieces  of 
my  narrative  merely  because  you're  a  lawyer 
and  hate  needless  details,  sentimental  or 
otherwise.  But  do  you  hate  sentimental 
details  ?  I  don't  know.  Anyhow,  this  isn't 
a  counsel's  brief.  What  was  I  saying  ?  Oh  ! 
She  didn't  make  a  tremendous  impression  on 
me  at  the  moment,  but  I  thought  of  her  after- 
wards. I  thought  of  her  a  good  deal  in  a 
quiet  way  after  I  had  left  her — so  much  so 
that  I  made  a  special  journey  to  Ravengar' s  a 
few  days  afterwards,  when  there  was  no  real 
need  for  me  to  go,  in  order  to  have  a  look  at 
her  face  again.  I  should  explain  that  I  was 
dabbling  in  finance  just  then,  fairly  success- 
fully, and  had  transactions  with  Ravengar. 
He  didn't  know  that  I  was  the  son  of  the  man 


WHAT  THE  PHONOGRAPH  SAID     207 

who  had  taken  his  stepmother  away  from  his 
father,  and  I  never  told  him  I  had  changed 
my  name,  because  the  scandals  attached  to  it 
by  Ravengar  and  his  father  had  made  things 
very  unpleasant  for  any  bearer  of  that  name. 
Still,  Ravengar  happened  to  be  the  man  I 
wanted  to  deal  with,  and  so  I  didn't  let  any 
stupid  resentment  on  my  part  stop  me  from 
dealing  with  him.  He  was  a  scoundrel,  but 
he  played  the  game,  I  may  incidentally 
mention.  I  venture  to  give  this  frank  opinion 
about  one  of  your  most  important  clients, 
because  he'll  be  dead  before  you  read  this, 
Polycarp.  At  least,  I  expect  so. 

Well,  the  day  I  called  specially  with  a  view 
to  seeing  her  she  was  not  there.  She  had  left 
Ravengar' s  employment,  and  disappeared. 
Ravengar  seemed  to  be  rather  perturbed  about 
it.  But  perhaps  he  was  perturbed  about  the 
suicide  which  had  recently  taken  place  in  his 
office.  I  felt  it — I  mean  I  felt  her  disappear- 
ance. However,  the  memory  of  her  face  gave 
me  something  very  charming  to  fall  back  on 
in  moments  of  depression,  a  1  it  was  at  this 
time  something  occurred  sufficient  to  make  me 
profoundly  depressed  for  the  remainder  of  my 
life.  I  was  over  in  Paris,  and  seeing  a  good 
deal  of  Darcy,  my  friend  the  English  doctor 


208  HUGO 

there.  We  were  having  a  long  yarn  one  night 
in  his  rooms  over  the  Cafe  Americain,  and  he 
said  to  me  suddenly :  '  Look  here,  old  chap^ 
I'm  going  to  do  something  very  unprofes- 
sional, because  I  fancy  you'll  thank  me  for  it.' 
He  said  it  just  like  that,  bursting  out  all  of  a 
sudden.  So  I  said,  '  Well  ?'  He  said  :  '  It's 
very  serious,  and  in  nine  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  cases  out  of  a  thousand  I  should  be  a 
blundering  idiot  to  tell  you.'  I  said  to  him  : 
'  You've  begun.  Finish.  And  let's  see 
whether  I'll  thank  you.'  He  then  told  me 
that  I'd  got  malignant  disease  of  the  heart, 
might  die  at  any  moment,  and  in  any  case 
couldn't  live  more  than  a  few  years.  He  said : 
'  I  thought  you'd  like  to  know,  so  that  you 
could  arrange  your  life  accordingly. '  I  thanked 
him.  I  was  really  most  awfully  obliged  to  him. 
It  wanted  some  pluck  to  tell  me.  He  said  :  '  I 
wouldn't  admit  to  anyone  else  that  I'd  told 
you.'  I  never  admired  Darcy  more  than  I 
did  that  night.  His  tone  was  so  finely  casual. 
In  something  like  a  month  I  had  got  used  to 
the  idea  of  being  condemned  to  death.  At 
any  rate,  it  ceased  to  interfere  with  my  sleep. 
I  purchased  a  vault  for  myself  in  Brompton 
Cemetery.  Then  I  took  this  flat  that  I'm 
talking  in  now,  and  began  deliberately  to  think 


WHAT  THE  PHONOGRAPH  SAID     209 

over  how  I  should  finish  my  life.  I'd  got 
money — much  more  than  old  Ravengar 
imagined — and  I'm  a  bit  of  a  philosopher,  you 
know  ;  I  have  my  theories  as  to  what  con- 
stitutes real  living.  However,  I  won't  bother 
you  with  those.  I  expect  they're  pretty 
crude,  after  all.  Besides,  my  preparations 
were  all  knocked  on  the  head.  I  saw  Camilla 
Payne  again  in  Hugo's.  She  had  stopped 
typewriting,  and  was  a  milliner  there.  I  tried 
my  level  best  to  strike  up  an  intimacy  with 
her,  but  I  failed.  She  wouldn't  have  it.  The 
fact  is,  I  was  too  rich  and  showy.  And  I  had 
a  reputation  behind  me  which,  possibly — well, 
you're  aware  of  all  that,  Polycarp.  In  about 
a  fortnight  I  worshipped  her — yes,  I  did 
actually  worship  her.  I  would  have  done 
anything  she  ordered  me,  except  leave  her 
alone  ;  and  that  I  wouldn't  do.  I  dare  say  I 
might  have  got  into  a  sort  of  friendship  with 
her  if  she'd  had  any  home,  any  relatives,  any 
place  to  receive  me  in.  But  what  can  a  girl 
do  with  nothing  but  a  bed-sitting-room  ?  I 
asked  her  to  go  up  the  river  ;  I  asked  her  to 
dinner  and  to  lunch,  and  to  bring  her  friends 
with  her  ;  I  even  asked  her  to  go  with  me  to 
an  A. B.C.  shop,  but  she  wouldn't.  She  was 
quite  right,  in  a  general  way.  How  could  she 

14 


210  HUGO 

guess  I  wasn't  like  the  rest,  or  like  what  I  had 
been  ? 

Once,  when  she  let  me  walk  with  her  from 
Hugo's  down  to  Walham  Green,  I  nearly  went 
mad  with  joy.  I  think  I  verily  was  mad  for 
a  time.  I  used  to  take  out  licenses  for  our 
marriage,  and  I  used  to  buy  clothes  for  her — 
heaps  of  clothes,  in  case.  Yes,  I  was  as  good 
as  mad  then.  And  when  she  made  it  clear 
that  this  walking  by  my  side  was  nothing  at 
all,  meant  nothing,  and  must  be  construed  as 
nothing,  I  grew  still  more  mad. 

At  last  I  wrote  to  her  that  if  she  didn't  call 
and  see  me  at  my  flat,  I  should  blow  my  brains 
out.  I  didn't  expect  her  to  call,  and  I  did 
expect  that  I  should  blow  my  brains  out.  I 
was  ready  to  do  so.  A  year  more  or  a  year 
less  on  this  earth — what  did  it  matter  to  me  ? 

Some  people  may  think — you  may  think, 
Polycarp — that  a  man  like  me,  under  sentence 
of  death  from  a  doctor,  had  no  right  to  make 
love  to  a  woman.  That  may  be  so.  But  in 
love  there  isn't  often  any  question  of  right. 
Human  instincts  have  no  regard  for  human 
justice,  and  when  the  instinct  is  strong  enough, 
the  sense  of  justice  simply  ceases  to  exist  for 
it.  When  you're  in  love — enough — you  don't 
argue.  You  desire — that's  all. 


WHAT  THE  PHONOGRAPH  SAID     211 

To  my  amazement,  she  came  to  the  flat. 
When  she  was  announced,  I  could  scarcely 
tell  the  servant  to  show  her  in,  and  when 
she  entered,  I  couldn't  speak  at  all  for  a 
moment.  She  was  so — however,  I  won't 
describe  her.  I  couldn't,  for  one  thing. 
No  one  could  describe  that  woman.  She 
didn't  make  any  fuss.  She  didn't  cry  out  that 
she  had  ruined  her  reputation  or  anything  like 
that.  She  simply  said  that  she  had  received 
my  letter,  and  that  she  had  believed  the 
sincerity  of  my  threat,  while  regretting  it,  and 
what  did  I  wish  to  say  to  her — she  wouldn't 
be  able  to  stay  long.  It  goes  without  saying 
I  couldn't  begin.  I  couldn't  frame  a  sentence. 
So  I  suggested  we  should  have  some  tea. 
Accordingly,  we  had  some  tea.  She  poured  it 
out,  and  we  discussed  the  furniture  of  the 
drawing-room.  I  might  have  known  she  had 
fine  taste  in  furniture.  She  had.  When  tea 
was  over,  she  seemed  to  be  getting  a  little 
impatient.  Then  I  rang  for  the  tray  to  be 
removed,  and  as  soon  as  we  were  alone  again, 
I  started  :  '  Miss  Payne ' 

Now,  when  I  started  like  that,  I  hadn't  the 
ghost  of  a  notion  what  I  was  going  to  say. 
And  then  the  idea  stepped  into  my  head  all 
of  a  sudden  :  '  Why  not  tell  her  exactly  what 

14—2 


212  HUGO 

your  situation  is  ?  Why  not  be  frank  with 
her,  and  see  how  it  works  ?'  It  was  an  in- 
spiration. Though  I  didn't  believe  in  it,  and 
thought  in  a  kind  of  despair  that  I  was  spoiling 
my  chances,  it  was  emphatically  an  inspira- 
tion, and  I  was  obliged  to  obey  it. 

So  I  told  her  what  Darcy  had  told  me.  I 
explained  how  it  was  that  I  couldn't  live  long. 
I  said  I  had  nothing  to  hope  for  in  this  world, 
no  joy,  nothing  but  blackness  and  horror.  I 
said  how  tremendously  I  was  in  love  with  her. 
I  said  I  knew  she  wasn't  in  love  with  me,  but 
at  the  same  time  I  thought  she  ought  to  have 
sufficient  insight  to  see  that  I  was  funda- 
mentally a  decent  chap.  I  went  so  far  as  to 
say  that  I  didn't  see  how  she  could  dislike  me. 
And  I  said  :  '  I  ask  you  to  marry  me.  It  will 
only  be  for  a  year  or  two,  but  that  year  or 
two  are  all  my  life,  while  only  a  fraction  of 
yours.  I  am  rich,  and  after  my  death  you 
will  be  rich,  and  free  from  the  necessity  of  this 
daily  drudgery  of  yours.  But  I  don't  ask  you 
to  marry  me  for  money  ;  I  ask  you  to  marry 
me  out  of  pity.  I  ask  you,  out  of  kindness  to 
the  most  unfortunate  and  hopeless  man  in  the 
world,  to  give  me  a  trifle  out  of  your  existence. 
Merely  out  of  pity  ;  merely  because  it  is  a 
woman's  part  in  the  world  to  render  pity  and 


WHAT  THE  PHONOGRAPH  SAID     213 

balm.  I  won't  hide  anything  from  you.  There 
will  be  the  unpleasant  business  of  my  sudden 
death,  which  will  be  a  shock  to  you,  even  if  you 
learn  to  hate  me.  But  you  would  get  over 
that.  And  you  would  always  afterwards  have 
the  consciousness  of  having  changed  the  last 
months  of  a  man's  career  from  hell  to  heaven. 
There's  no  disguising  the  fact  that  it's  a 
strange  proposition  I'm  making  to  you,  but 
the  proposition  is  not  more  strange  than  the 
situation.  Will  you  consent,  or  won't  you  ?' 
She  was  going  to  say  something,  but  I  stopped 
her.  I  said  :  '  Wait  a  moment.  I  shan't  try 
to  terrorize  you  by  threats  of  suicide.  And 
now,  before  you  say  "  Yes  "  or  "  No,"  I  give 
you  my  solemn  word  not  to  commit  suicide  if 
you  say  "  No."  '  Then  I  went  on  in  the  same 
strain  appealing  to  her  pity,  and  telling  her 
how  humble  I  should  be  as  a  husband. 

I  could  see  I  had  moved  her  ;  and  now  I 
think  over  the  scene  I  fancy  that  my  appeal 
must  have  been  a  lot  more  touching  than  I 
imagined  it  was  when  I  was  making  it. 

She  said  :  '  I  have  always  liked  you  a  little. 
But  I  haven't  loved  you,  and  I  don't  love 
you.'  And  then,  after  a  pause — I  was  deter- 
mined to  say  nothing  more — she  said  :  '  Yes, 
I  will  marry  you.  I  may  be  doing  wrong— 


214  HUGO 

I  am  certainly  doing  something  very  unusual ; 
but  I  have  no  one  to  advise  me  against  it, 
and  I  will  follow  my  impulse  and  marry  you. 
I  needn't  say  that  I  shall  do  all  I  can  to  be 
a  good  wife  to  you.  Ours  will  be  a  curious 
marriage.  .  .  .  Perhaps,  after  all,  I  am  very 
wicked  !' 

I  cried  out :  '  No,  you  aren't  —  no  you 
aren't !  The  saints  aren't  in  it  with  you !' 

She  smiled  at  this  speech.  She's  so  sensible, 
Camilla  is.  She's  like  a  man  in  some  things ; 
all  really  great  women  are. 

I  could  tell  you  a  lot  more  that  passed 
immediately  afterwards,  but  I  can  feel  already 
my  voice  is  getting  a  bit  tired.  Besides,  it's 
nothing  to  you,  Polycarp. 

Then,  afterwards,  I  said :  *  You  will  love 
me,  you  know.' 

And  I  meant  it.  Any  man  in  similar  cir- 
cumstances would  have  said  it  and  meant  it. 
She  smiled  again.  And  then  I  wanted  to  be 
alone  with  her,  to  enjoy  the  intimacy  of  her 
presence,  without  a  lot  of  servants  all  over 
the  place  ;  so  I  went  out  of  the  drawing-room 
and  packed  off  the  whole  tribe  for  the  even- 
ing, all  except  Mrs.  Dant.  I  kept  Mrs.  Dant 
to  attend  on  Camilla. 

We  had  dinner  sent  up  ;  it  was  like  a  picnic. 


WHAT  THE  PHONOGRAPH  SAID     215 

jolly  and  childish.  Camilla  was  charming. 
And  then  I  took  photographs  of  her  by  flash- 
light, with  immense  success.  We  developed 
them  together  in  the  dark-room.  That  even- 
ing was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  been  really 
happy  in  all  my  life.  And  I  was  really  happy, 
although  every  now  and  then  the  idea  would 
shoot  through  my  head  :  '  Only  for  a  year  or 
two  at  most ;  perhaps  only  for  a  day  or  two  !' 

I  returned  to  the  dark-room  alone  for  some- 
thing or  other,  and  when  I  came  back  into 
the  drawing-room  she  was  not  there.  By 
heaven  !  my  heart  went  into  my  mouth.  I 
feared  she  had  run  away,  after  all.  How- 
ever, I  met  her  in  the  passage.  She  looked 
very  frightened  ;  her  face  was  quite  changed  ; 
but  she  said  nothing  had  occurred.  I  kissed 
her  ;  she  let  me. 

Soon  afterwards  she  went  on  to  the  roof. 
She  tried  to  be  cheerful,  but  I  saw  she  had 
something  on  her  mind.  She  said  she  must 
go  home,  and  begged  my  permission  to  pre- 
cede me  into  the  flat  in  order  to  prepare  for 
her  departure.  I  consented.  When  ten 
minutes  had  elapsed  I  followed,  and  in  the 
drawing-room,  instead  of  finding  Camilla,  I 
found  Louis  Ravengar. 

I  needn't  describe  my  surprise  at  all  that. 


216  HUGO 

Ravengar  was  beside  himself  with  rage.  I 
gathered  after  a  time  that  he  claimed  Camilla 
as  his  own.  He  said  I  had  stolen  her  from 
him.  I  couldn't  tell  exactly  what  he  was 
driving  at,  but  I  parleyed  with  him  a  little 
until  I  could  get  my  revolver  out  of  a  drawer 
in  my  escritoire.  He  jumped  at  me.  I 
thrust  him  back  without  firing,  and  we 
stood  each  of  us  ready  for  murder.  I  couldn't 
say  how  long  that  lasted.  Suddenly  he 
glanced  across  the  room,  and  his  eyes  faltered, 
and  I  became  aware  that  Camilla  had  entered 
silently.  I  was  so  startled  at  her  appearance 
and  by  the  transformation  in  Ravengar  that 
I  let  off  the  revolver  involuntarily.  I  heard 
Camilla  order  him,  in  a  sharp,  low  voice,  to 
leave  instantly.  He  defied  her  for  a  second, 
and  then  went.  Before  leaving  he  stuttered, 
in  a  dreadful  voice  :  '  I  shall  kill  you ' — 
meaning  her.  '  I  may  as  well  hang  for  one 
thing  as  for  another.' 

I  said  to  Camilla,  gasping  :  c  What  is  it  all  ? 
What  does  it  mean  ?' 

She  then  told  me,  after  confessing  that  she 
had  caught  Ravengar  hiding  in  the  dressing- 
room,  and  had  actually  suspected  that  /  had 
been  in  league  with  him  against  her,  that 
long  ago  she  had  by  accident  seen  Ravengar 


WHAT  THE  PHONOGRAPH  SAID     217 

commit  a  crime.  She  would  not  tell  me  what 
crime ;  she  would  give  me  no  particulars. 
Still,  I  gathered  that,  if  not  actually  murder, 
it  was  at  least  homicide.  After  that  Raven- 
gar  had  pestered  her  to  marry  him — had  even 
said  that  he  would  be  content  with  a  purely 
formal  marriage  ;  had  offered  her  enormous 
sums  to  agree  to  his  proposal ;  and  had  been 
constantly  repulsed  by  her.  She  admitted  to 
me  that  he  had  appeared  to  be  violently  in 
love  with  her,  but  that  his  motive  in  wanting 
marriage  was  to  prevent  her  from  giving 
evidence  against  him.  I  asked  her  why  she 
had  not  communicated  with  the  police  long 
since,  and  she  replied  that  nothing  would 
induce  her  to  do  that. 

'  But,'  I  said,  '  he  will  do  his  best  to  kill 
you.' 

She  said  :  c  I  know  it.' 

And  she  said  it  so  solemnly  that  I  became 
extremely  frightened.  I  knew  Ravengar,  and 
I  had  marked  the  tone  of  his  final  words  ;  and 
the  more  I  pondered  the  more  profoundly  I 
was  imbued  with  this  one  idea :  '  The  life  of 
my  future  wife  is  not  safe.  Nothing  can 
make  it  safe.' 

I  urged  her  to  communicate  with  the  police. 
She  refused  absolutely. 


218  HUGO 

*  Then  one  day  you  will  be  killed,'  I  said. 

She  gazed  at  me,  and  said  :  '  Can't  you  hit 
on  some  plan  to  keep  me  safe  for  a  year  ?' 

I  demanded  :  '  Why  a  year  ?' 

I  thought  she  was  thinking  of  my  short 
shrift. 

She  said  :  '  Because  in  a  year  Mr.  Ravengar 
will  probably  have — passed  away.' 

Not  another  word  of  explanation  would  she 
add. 

'  Yes,'  I  said  ;  '  I  can  hit  on  a  plan.' 

And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  a  scheme  had  sud- 
denly flashed  into  my  head. 

She  asked  me  what  the  scheme  was.  And 
I  murmured  that  it  began  with  our  marriage 
on  the  following  day.  I  had  in  my  possession 
a  license  which  would  enable  us  to  go  through 
the  ceremony  at  once. 

'  Trust  me,'  I  said.  '  You  have  trusted  me 
enough  to  agree  to  marry  me..  Trust  me  in 
everything.' 

I  did  not  venture  to  tell  her  just  then  what 
my  scheme  was. 

She  went  to  her  lodging  that  night  in  my 
brougham.  After  she  had  gone  I  found  poor 
old  Mrs.  Dant  drugged  in  the  kitchen.  On 
the  next  morning  Camilla  and  I  were  married 
at  a  registry  office.  She  objected  to  the 


WHAT  THE  PHONOGRAPH  SAID     219 

registry  -  office  at  first,  but  in  the  end  she 
agreed,  on  the  condition  that  I  got  her  a 
spray  of  orange-blossom  to  wear  at  her  breast. 
It's  no  business  of  yours,  Polycarp,  but  I  may 
tell  you  that  this  feminine  trait,  this  almost 
childish  weakness,  in  a  woman  of  so  superb 
and  powerful  a  character,  simply  enchanted 
me.  I  obtained  the  orange-blossom. 

Then  you  will  remember  I  sent  for  you, 
Polycarp,  made  my  will,  and  accompanied 
you  to  my  safe  in  your  private  vault,  in  order 
to  deposit  there  some  secret  instructions.  I 
shall  not  soon  forget  your  mystification,  and 
how  you  chafed  under  my  imperative  com- 
mands. 

Camilla  and  I  departed  to  Paris,  my  brain 
full  of  my  scheme,  and  full  of  happiness,  too. 
We  went  to  a  private  hotel  to  which  Darcy 
had  recommended  us,  suitable  for  honey- 
moons. The  following  morning  I  was,  per- 
haps, inclined  to  smile  a  little  at  our  terror  of 
Ravengar  ;  but,  peeping  out  of  the  window 
early,  I  saw  Ravengar  himself  standing  on 
the  pavement  in  the  Rue  St.  Augustin. 

I  told  Camilla  I  was  going  out,  and  that 
she  must  not  leave  that  room,  nor  admit 
anyone  into  it,  until  I  returned.  I  felt  that 
Ravengar,  what  with  disappointed  love,  and 


220  HUGO 

jealousy,  and  fear  of  the  consequences  of  a 
past  crime,  had  developed  into  a  sort  of 
monomaniac  in  respect  to  Camilla.  I  felt 
he  was  capable  of  anything.  I  should  not 
have  been  surprised  if  he  had  hired  a  room 
opposite  to  us  on  the  other  side  of  that  narrow 
street,  and  directed  a  fusillade  upon  Camilla. 

When  I  reached  the  street  he  had  disap- 
peared— melted  away. 

It  was  quite  early.  However,  I  walked  up 
the  Rue  de  Grammont,  and  so  to  Darcy's,  and 
I  routed  him  out  of  bed.  I  gave  him  the 
entire  history  of  the  case.  I  convinced  him 
of  its  desperateness,  and  I  unfolded  to  him 
my  scheme.  At  first  he  fought  ::!iy  of  it. 
He  said  it  might  ruin  him.  He  said  such 
things  could  not  be  done  in  London.  I  had 
meant  to  carry  out  the  scheme  in  this  flat. 
Hence  the  reason,  Polycarp,  of  the  clause  in 
my  will  which  provides  for  the  sealing  up  of 
the  flat  in  case  I  die  within  two  months  of 
my  wedding.  You  see,  I  feared  that  I  might 
be  cut  off  before  the  plan  was  carried  out  or 
before  all  traces  of  it  were  cleared  away,  and 
I  wanted  to  keep  the  place  safe  from  prying 
eyes.  As  it  happened,  there  was  no  need  for 
such  a  precaution,  as  you  will  see,  and  I  shall 
make  a  new  will  to-morrow. 


WHAT  THE  PHONOGRAPH  SAID     221 

Darcy  said  suddenly :  '  Why  not  carry  out 
your  plan  here  in  Paris,  and  now  ?' 

The  superior  advantages  of  this  alternative 
were  instantly  plain.  It  would  be  safer  for 
Camilla,  since  it  would  operate  at  once  ;  and 
also  Darcy  said  that  the  formal  details  could 
be  arranged  much  better  in  Paris  than  in 
London,  as  doctors  could  be  found  there  who 
would  sign  anything,  and  clever  sculptors, 
who  did  not  mind  a  peculiar  commission, 
were  more  easily  obtainable  in  the  Quartier 
Montparnasse  than  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  Six  Bells  and  the  Arts  Club,  Chelsea. 

We  found  the  doctor  and  the  sculptor. 

The  hotel  was  informed  that  Camilla  was 
ill,  and  tliat  the  symptoms  pointed  to  typhoid 
fever.  Naturally,  she  kept  her  room.  That 
day  the  sculptor,  a  young  American,  who  said 
that  a  thing  was  '  bully  '  when  he  meant  it 
was  good,  arrived,  and  took  a  mask  of  Camilla's 
head.  By  the  way,  this  was  a  most  tedious 
and  annoying  process.  The  two  straws 
through  which  the  poor  girl  had  to  breathe 
while  her  face  was  covered  with  that  white 
stuff !  Oh,  well,  I  needn't  go  into  that. 

The  next  day  typhoid  fever  was  definitely 
announced.  Hotels  generally  prefer  these 
things  to  be  kept  secret,  but  we  published  it 


222  HUGO 

everywhere — it  was  part  of  our  plan.  In  a 
few  hours  the  entire  Rue  St.  Augustin  was 
aware  that  the  English  bride  recently  arrived 
from  London  was  down  with  typhoid  fever. 

The  disease  ran  its  course.  Sometimes 
Camilla  was  better,  sometimes  worse.  Then 
all  of  a  sudden  a  haemorrhage  supervened, 
and  the  young  wife  died,  and  the  young  hus- 
band was  stricken  with  trouble  and  grief. 
The  whole  street  mourned.  The  death  even 
got  into  the  Paris  dailies,  and  the  correspon- 
dence column  of  the  Paris  edition  of  the  New 
York  Herald  was  filled  with  outcries  against 
the  impurities  of  Parisian  water. 

It  was  colossal.     I  laughed,  Polycarp. 

My  mind  unhinged  by  sorrow,  I  insisted  on 
taking  the  corpse  to  London  for  burial.  I 
had  a  peculiar  affection  for  the  Brompton 
Cemetery,  though  neither  her  ancestors  nor 
mine  had  been  buried  there.  I  insisted  on 
Darcy  accompanying  me.  The  procession 
left  the  Rue  St.  Augustin,  and  the  hotel  was 
disinfected.  This  alone  cost  me  a  thousand 
francs.  I  gave  the  sculptor  one  thousand 
five  hundred,  and  the  doctor  two  thousand. 
Then  there  were  the  expenses  of  the  journey 
with  the  coffin.  I  forget  the  figure,  but  I 
know  it  was  prodigious. 


WHAT  THE  PHONOGRAPH  SAID    223 

But  I  was  content.  For,  of  course,  Camilla 
was  not  precisely  in  that  coffin.  Camilla  had 
not  been  suffering  from  precisely  typhoid 
fever.  In  strict  fact,  she  had  never  been  ill 
the  least  bit  in  the  world.  In  strict  fact,  she 
had  been  spirited  out  of  the  hotel  one  night, 
and  at  the  very  moment  when  her  remains 
were  crossing  the  Channel  in  charge  of  an 
inconsolable  widower,  she  was  in  the  middle 
of  the  Mediterranean  on  a  steamer.  The 
coffin  contained  a  really  wonderful  imitation 
of  her  outward  form,  modelled  and  coloured 
by  the  American  sculptor  in  a  composition 
consisting  largely  of  wax.  The  widower's  one 
grief  was  that  he  was  forced  to  separate  him- 
self from  his  life's  companion  for  a  period  of, 
at  least,  a  week. 

A  pretty  enough  scheme,  wasn't  it,  Poly- 
carp  ?  We  shall  shortly  bury  the  wax  effigy 
in  Brompton  Cemetery,  with  the  assistance 
of  Hugo's  undertakers,  and  a  parson  or  so, 
and  grave-diggers,  and  registrars  of  deaths, 
and  so  on  and  so  on.  Louis  Ravengar  will 
breathe  again,  thankful  that  typhoid  fever 
has  relieved  him  of  an  unpleasant  incubus, 
and  since  Camilla  is  underground,  he  will 
speedily  forget  all  about  her.  She  will  be 
absolutely  safe  from  him.  The  inconsolable 


224  HUGO 

widower  will  ostentatiously  seek  distraction 
in  foreign  travel,  and  in  a  fortnight,  at  most, 
will,  under  another  name,  resume  his  con- 
nubial career  in  a  certam  villa  unsurpassed, 
I  am  told,  for  its  picturesque  situation. 

To-morrow  or  the  next  day  I  must  make 
that  new  will,  dispensing  with  the  shutting- 
up  of  the  flat.  The  secret  instructions,  how- 
ever, will  stand. 

You  may  wonder  why  I  confide  all  this  to 
the  phonograph,  Polycarp.  I  will  tell  you. 
The  record  will  be  placed  by  me  to-morrow 
in  my  safe  in  your  vault.  To-night  I  shall 
lock  it  up  in  the  safe  here.  When  I  am  dead, 
Polycarp,  you  will  find  that  the  secret  in- 
structions instruct  you  to  realize  all  my 
estate,  and  to  keep  the  proceeds  in  negoti- 
able form  until  a  lady  named  Mrs.  Catherine 
Pounds,  a  widow,  comes  to  you  with  an  auto- 
graph letter  from  me.  You  will  hand  every- 
thing to  that  lady,  or  to  her  representative, 
without  any  further  inquiry.  But  it  has 
struck  me  this  very  day,  Polycarp,  that  you, 
with  your  confounded  suspicious  and  legal 
nature,  when  you  see  Mrs.  Catherine  Pounds, 
if  she  should  come  in  person,  may  recognise 
in  her  a  striking  resemblance  to  Camilla. 
And  you  may  put  difficulties  in  the  way,  and 


WHAT  THE  PHONOGRAPH  SAID    225 

rake  up  history  which  was  not  meant  to  be 
raked  up.  This  phonographic  record  is  to 
prevent  you  from  doing  so,  if  by  chance  you 
have  an  impulse  to  do  so.  Think  it  over 
carefully,  Polycarp.  Consider  our  situation, 
and  obey  my  instructions  without  a  murmur. 
The  thought  of  the  false  death  certificates  and 
burial  certificates,  and  of  the  unprofession- 
alism  of  Darcy,  will  abrade  your  legal  sus- 
ceptibilities ;  but  submit  to  the  torture  for 
my  sake,  Polycarp.  You  are  human.  I 
shall  add  to  the  letter  which  Mrs.  Catherine 
Pounds  will  bring  you  a  note  to  say  that  if 
you  have  any  scruples,  you  are  to  listen  to 
the  phonographic  records  in  the  safe ;  if  not, 
you  are  to  destroy  the  phonographic  records. 

Do  I  seem  gay,  Polycarp  ? 

I  ought  to  be.  I  have  carried  through  my 
scheme.  I  have  outwitted  Ravengar.  I  have 
saved  Camilla  from  death  at  his  hands.  I 
can  look  forward  to  an  idyll — brief,  perhaps, 
but  ecstatic — in  a  villa  with  the  loveliest 
view  on  all  the  Mediterranean.  I  ought  to 
be  gay.  And  yet  I  am  not.  And  it  is  not 
the  knowledge  of  my  fatal  disease  that 
saddens  me.  No;  I  think  I  have  been  sad- 
dened by  a  day  and  a  night  spent  with  that 
coffin.  It  is  a  fraud  of  a  coffin,  but  it  exists. 

15 


226  HUGO 

And  when  I  saw  it  just  now  occupying  the 
drawing-room,  it  gave  me  a  sudden  shock. 
It  somehow  took  hold  of  my  imagination.  I 
was  obliged  to  look  within,  and  to  touch  the 
waxen  image  there.  And  that  image  seemed 
unholy.  I  did  not  care  to  dwell  on  the 
thought  of  it  going  into  the  ground,  witn  all 
the  solemnities  of  the  real  thing.  What  do 
you  suppose  will  happen  to  that  waxen  image 
on  the  Judgment  Day,  Polycarp  ?  Surely, 
someone  in  authority,  possibly  a  steward, 
fussy  and  overworked,  will  exclaim  :  '  There 
is  some  mistake  here  !'  I  can  hear  you  say 
that  I  am  mad,  Polycarp,  that  Francis  Tudor 
was  always  a  little  '  wrong.'  But  I  am  not 
mad.  It  is  only  that  my  brain  is  too  agile, 
too  fanciful.  I  am  a  great  deal  more  sane 
than  you,  Polycarp. 

And  I  am  trying  to  put  some  heart  into 
myself.  I  am  trying  to  make  ready  to  enjoy 
the  brief  ecstatic  future  where  Camilla  awaits 
me.  But  I  am  so  tired,  Polycarp.  And 
there's  no  disguising  the  fact  that  it's  an 
awful  nuisance  never  to  be  quite  sure  whether 
you  won't  fall  down  dead  the  next  minute  or 
the  next  second.  I  must  go  in  and  have 
another  glance  at  that  singular  swindle  of  a 
coffin. 

*  *  *  *  * 


WHAT  THE  PHONOGRAPH  SAID     227 

The  phonograph  went  off  into  an  inarticu- 
late whirr  of  its  own  machinery.  The  recital 
was  over.  Tudor  must  have  died  immediately 
after  securing  the  record  in  the  safe  in  his 
bedroom,  where  Hugo  had  just  listened  to  it. 

'  She  lives  !'  was  Hugo's  sole  thought. 

The  profound  and  pathetic  tragedy  of 
Tudor's  career  did  not  touch  him  until  long 
afterwards. 

'  She  lives  !  Ravengar  lives  !  Ravengar 
probably  knows  where  she  is,  and  I  do  not 
know  !  And  Ravengar  is  at  large  !  I  have  set 
him  at  large.' 

His  mind  a  battlefield  on  which  the  most 
glorious  hope  struggled  against  a  frenzied  fear, 
Hugo  rose  from  the  chair  in  front  of  the  phono- 
graph-stand, and,  after  a  slight  hesitation, 
left  the  flat  as  he  had  entered  it.  Before 
dawn  the  pane  had  been  replaced  in  the 
drawing-room  window,  and  the  side-door 
secured. 


15-* 


PAET  III 
THE    TOMB 


CHAPTER  XX 

'ARE    YOU    THERE?' 

THE  next  morning  Hugo's  dreams  seemed  to 
be  concerned  chiefly  with  a  telephone,  and  the 
telephone-bell  of  his  dreams  made  the  dreams 
so  noisy  that  even  while  asleep  he  knew  that 
his  rest  was  being  outrageously  disturbed. 
He  tried  to  change  the  subject  of  his  fantastic 
visions,  but  he  could  not,  and  the  telephone- 
bell  rang  nearly  all  the  time.  This  was  the 
more  annoying  in  that  he  had  taken  elaborate 
precautions  to  secure  perfect  repose.  Perfect 
repose  was  what  he  needed  after  quitting 
Tudor' s  flat.  He  felt  that  he  had  stood  as 
much  as  a  man  can  expect  himself  to  stand. 
In  the  vault,  and  again  in  the  flat,  his  life  had 
been  in  danger  ;  he  had  suffered  the  ignominy 
of  the  ruined  sale  ;  he  had  come  to  grips  with 
Ravengar,  and  let  Ravengar  go  free  ;  he  had 
listened  to  the  amazing  recital  of  the  phono- 
graph. Moreover,  between  the  interview  with 
Ravengar  and  the  burglary  of  the  flat  he  had 

231 


232  HUGO 

summoned  his  Council  of  Ten,  or,  rather,  his 
Council  of  Nine  (Bentley  being  absent,  dead), 
had  addressed  all  his  employes,  had  separated 
three  traitorous  shopwalkers,  ten  traitorous 
cashiers,  and  forty-two  traitorous  servers 
from  the  main  body,  and  sent  them  packing, 
had  arranged  for  the  rehabilitation  of  Lady 
Brice  (nee  Kentucky- Webster),  had  appointed 
a  new  guardian  to  the  Safe  Deposit,  had  got 
on  the  track  of  the  stolen  stoles,  and  had 
approved  special  advertisements  for  every 
daily  paper  in  London. 

And,  finally  and  supremely,  he  had  experi- 
enced the  greatest  stroke  of  joy,  ecstatic  and 
bewildering  joy,  of  his  whole  existence — the 
news  that  Camilla  lived.  It  was  this  tremen- 
dous feeling  of  joy,  and  not  by  any  means  his 
complex  and  variegated  worries,  that  might 
have  prevented  him  from  obtaining  the  sleep 
which  Nature  demanded. 

On  reaching  the  dome  at  2  a.m.,  he  had 
taken  four  tabloids,  each  containing  0'324 
gramme  of  trional,  and  had  drunk  the  glass 
of  hot  milk  which  Simon  always  left  him  in 
case  he  should  want  it.  And  he  had  written 
on  a  sheet  of  paper  the  words :  '  I  am  not  to 
be  disturbed  before  10  a.m.,  no  matter  what 
happens ;  but  call  me  at  ten. — H.'  ;  and  had 


'  ARE  YOU  THERE  ?'  233 

put  the  sheet  of  paper  on  Simon's  door-mat. 
And  then  he  had  stumbled  into  bed,  and  aban- 
doned himself  to  sleep — not  without  reluc- 
tance, for  he  did  not  care  to  lose,  even  for  a 
few  hours,  the  fine  consciousness  of  that  sheer 
joy.  He  desired  to  rush  off  instantly  into 
the  universe  at  large  and  discover  Camilla, 
wherever  she  might  be. 

Of  course,  he  had  dreamed  of  Camilla,  but 
the  telephone-bell  had  drowned  the  remem- 
bered accents  of  her  voice.  The  telephone- 
bell  had  silenced  everything.  The  telephone- 
bell  had  grown  from  a  dream  into  a  night- 
mare ;  and  at  last  he  had  said  to  himself  in  the 
nightmare :  *  I  might  just  as  well  be  up  and 
working  as  lying  throttled  here  by  this  con- 
founded nightmare.'  And  by  an  effort  of  will 
he  had  wakened.  And  even  after  he  was 
roused,  and  had  switched  on  the  light,  which 
showed  the  hands  of  the  clock  at  a  quarter  to 
ten,  he  could  still  hear  the  telephone-bell  of 
his  nightmare.  And  then  the  truth  occurred 
to  him,  as  the  truth  does  occur  surprisingly 
to  people  whose  sleep  has  been  disturbed, 
that  the  telephone-bell  was  a  real  telephoiie- 
bell,  and  not  in  the  least  the  telephone-bell 
of  a  dream,  and  it  was  ringing,  ringing, 
ringing  in  the  dome.  There  were  fifteen  lines 


234  HUGO 

of  telephone  in  the  Hugo  building,  and  one  of 
them  ran  to  the  dome.  Few  persons  called 
him  up  on  it,  because  few  persons  knew  its 
precise  number,  but  he  used  it  considerably 
himself. 

'  Anyhow,'  he  murmured,  c  I've  had  over 
seven  and  a  half  hours'  sleep,  and  that's 
something.' 

And  as  he  got  out  of  bed  to  go  across  to  the 
telephone,  his  great  joy  resumed  possession 
of  him,  and  he  was  rather  glad  than  otherwise 
that  the  telephone  had  forced  him  to  wake. 

'  Well,  well,  well  ?'  he  cried  comically, 
lifting  the  ear-piece  off  the  hook  and  stopping 
the  bell. 

'  Are  you  there  ?'  the  still  small  voice  of 
the  telephone  whispered  in  his  ear. 

'  I  should  think  I  was  here !'  he  cried. 
'  Who  are  you  ?' 

'  Are  you  Mr.  Hugo  ?'  asked  the  voice. 

'  I'm  what's  left  of  Mr.  Hugo,'  he  answered 
in  a  sort  of  drunken  tone.  The  power  of  the 
sedative  was  still  upon  him.  '  Who  are  you  ? 
You've  pretty  nearly  rung  my  head  off.' 

'  I  just  want  to  say  good-bye  to  you,'  said 
the  voice. 

'  What !' 

Hugo  started,  glancing  round  the  vast  room, 


4  ARE  YOU  THERE  ?'  235 

which  was  in  shadow  except  where  a  solitary 
light  threw  its  yellow  glare  on  the  dial  of  the 
clock. 

'  Are  you  there  ?'  asked  the  voice  patiently 
once  again. 

'  It  isn't ' — something  prompted  him  to  use 
a  Christian  name — '  it  isn't  Louis  ?' 

'  Yes.' 

'  Where  are  you,  then  ?'  Hugo  demanded. 

'  Not  far  off,'  replied  the  mysterious  voice 
in  the  telephone. 

It  was  unmistakably  the  voice  of  Louis 
Raven  gar,  but  apparently  touched  with  some 
new  quality,  some  quality  of  resigned  and 
dignified  despair.  Hugo  wondered  where  the 
man  could  be.  And  the  sinister  magic  of 
the  telephone,  which  brought  this  sad,  quiet 
voice  to  him  from  somewhere  out  of  the 
immensity  of  England,  but  which  would  not 
yield  up  the  secret  of  its  hiding,  struck  him 
strangely. 

'  Are  you  there  ?'  said  the  voice  yet  again. 

'  Yes.' 

Hugo  shivered,  but  whether  it  was  from 
cold — he  wore  nothing  but  his  pyjamas — or 
from  apprehension  he  could  not  decide. 

'  I'm  saying  good-bye,'  said  the  voice  once 
more.  *  I  suppose  you  mean  to  have  the 


236  HUGO 

police  after  me,  and  so  I  mean  to  get  out  of 
their  way.     See  ?     But  first  I  wished  to  tell 
you— crrrck  duck— Eh  ?     What  ?' 
'  I  didn't  speak.' 

*  It's    these    Exchange    hussies,    then.     I 
wanted  to  tell  you  I've  thought  a  lot  about  our 
interview  last  night.     What  you  said  was  true 
enough,  Owen.     I  admit  that,  and  so  I  am 
going    to    end    it.     Eh  ?     Are    you    there  ? 
That  girl  keeps  putting  me  off.' 

*  End  what  ?' 

'  End  it — it — it  /  I'm  not  making  anybody 
happy,  not  even  myself,  and  so  I'm  going  to 
end  it.  But  I'll  tell  you  her  address  first.  I 
know  it.' 

*  Whose  address  ?' 

*  Hers — Camilla's.     If  I  tell  you,  will  you 
promise  not  to  say  a  word  about  me  speaking 
to  you  on  the  telephone  this  morning  ?' 

<  Yes.' 

*  Not  a  word  under  any  circumstances  ?' 
'  Certainly.' 

'  WeU,  it's  17,  Place  Saint-Etienne,  Bruges, 
Belgium.' 

6 17,  Place  Saint-Etienne,  Bruges.  That's 
all  right.  I  shan't  forget.  Look  here,  Louis, 
you'd  better  clear  out  of  England.  Go  to 
America.  Do  you  hear  ?  I  don't  understand 


•  ARE  YOU  THERE  ?'  237 

this  about  "  ending  it."  You  surely  aren't 
thinking  of ' 

He  felt  quite  magnanimous  towards  Raven- 
gar.  And  he  was  aware  that  he  could  get  to 
Bruges  in  six  hours  or  so. 

4  That  idea  of  yours  about  chloroform,'  said 
the  voice,  '  and  going  into  the  vault,  and  being 
shut  up  there,  is  a  very  good  one.  Nobody 
would  know,  except  the  person  whom  one 
paid  to  shut  the  door  after  one.' 

6 1  say,  where  are  you  ?'  Hugo  asked  curtly. 
He  was  at  a  loss  how  to  treat  these  singular 
confidences. 

'  And  so  is  that  idea  good  about  merely 
ending  one  incarnation  and  beginning  another. 
That's  much  better  than  calling  it  death.' 

'  I  shall  ring  you  off,'  said  Hugo. 

*  Wait   a   moment,'    said   the    voice,    still 
patiently.     c  If  you   should  hear   the  name 
CaUear ' 

There  was  a  pause. 

*  Well  ?'  Hugo  inquired,  '  what  name  ?' 

'  Callear — C-a-1-l-e-a-r.     If  you  should  hear 

that  name  soon •' 

'  What  then  ?' 

*  Remember    your    promise    of    secrecy — 
that's  aU.     Good-bye.' 

'  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  where  you  are.* 


238  HUGO 

'  Not  far  off,'  said  the  voice.  *  I  shall  never 
be  far  off,  I  think.  When  you've  found 
Camilla  and  brought  her  here ' — the  tone  of 
the  voice  changed  and  grew  almost  malignant 
despite  its  reticence — '  you'd  like  to  know 
that  I  was  always  near  to,  somewhere  under- 
neath, mouldering,  wouldn't  you  ?' 

'  What  did  you  say  ?' 

'  I  said  mouldering.     Good-bye.' 

'  But  look  here ' 

The  bell  rang  off.  Louis  Ravengar  had 
finished  his  good-bye.  Hugo  tried  in  vain  to 
resume  communication  with  him.  He  could 
not  even  get  any  sort  of  reply  from  the 
Exchange. 

'It's  a  queer  world,'  he  soliloquized,  as  he 
returned  to  bed.  '  What  does  the  man  mean  ?' 

He  was  still  happy  in  the  prospect  of  finding 
Camilla,  but  it  was  as  though  his  happiness 
were  a  pool  in  a  private  ground,  and  some 
trespasser  had  troubled  it  with  a  stone. 

The  clock  struck  ten,  and  Simon  entered 
with  tea  and  the  paper. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

SUICIDE 

THE  paper  contained  a  whole-page  adver- 
tisement of  Hugo's  great  annual  sale,  and 
also  a  special  half -page  advertisement  headed 
c  Hugo's  Apology  and  Promise  ' — a  message 
to  the  public  asking  pardon  of  the  public  for 
the  confusion,  inconvenience,  and  disappoint- 
ments of  the  previous  day,  hinting  that  the 
mystery  of  the  affair  would  probably  be 
elucidated  in  a  criminal  court,  and  stating 
that  a  prodigious  number  of  silvered  fox- 
stoles  would  positively  be  available  from  nine 
o'clock  that  morning  at  a  price  even  lower 
than  the  figure  named  in  the  original  an- 
nouncement. The  message  further  stated 
that  a  special  Complaint  Office  had  been 
opened  as  a  branch  of  the  Inquiry  Bureau, 
and  that  all  complaints  by  customers  who  had 
suffered  on  New  Year's  Day  would  there  be 
promptly  and  handsomely  dealt  with. 

239 


240  HUGO 

In  addition  to  Hugo's  advertisements, 
there  were  several  columns  of  news  describing 
the  singular  phenomena  of  the  sale,  concluding 
with  what  a  facetious  reporter  had  entitled 
'  Interviews  with  Survivors.' 

As  he  read  the  detailed  accounts  Hugo 
knew,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
what  it  was  '  to  go  hot  and  cold  all  over.' 
However,  he  was  decidedly  inclined  to  be 
optimistic. 

c  Anyhow,'  he  said,  c  it's  the  best  ad.  I  ever 
had.  Still,  it's  a  mercy  there  were  no  deaths.' 

He  began  to  dress  hurriedly,  furiously. 
Already  the  second  day  of  the  sale  had  been 
in  progress  for  more  than  an  hour,  and  he  had 
not  even  visited  the  scene  of  the  campaign. 
Simon  had  said  nothing ;  it  was  not  Simon's 
habit  to  speak  till  he  was  spoken  to.  And 
Hugo  did  not  feel  inclined  to  ask  questions  ; 
he  preferred  to  reconnoitre  in  person.  Yes, 
he  would  descend  instantly,  and  afterwards, 
when  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  the  evil 
had  been  repaired,  he  would  consider  about 
Camilla.  ...  By  neglecting  all  else,  he 
could  reach  her  in  time  for  dinner.  .  .  . 
Should  he  ?  ...  (At  this  point  he  plunged 
into  his  cold  bath.)  ...  No!  He  was  Hugo 
before  he  was  Camilla's  lover.  He  would  be 


SUICIDE  241 

a  tradesman  for  yet  another  ten  hours.  He 
had  a  duty  to  London.  .  .  . 

Then  Ravengar  wandered  into  his  thoughts 
and  confused  them. 

Just  as  he  was  assuming  his  waistcoat, 
Simon  entered. 

'  Mr.  Galpin,  sir.' 

'  And  who  the  d 1  is  Mr.  Galpin  ?'  asked 

Hugo. 

*  Mr.  Galpin  is  the  gentleman  who  saved 
your  life   yesterday,    sir,'    said   Simon   with 
admirable  sangfroid.     '  He  has  called  for  a 
hundred  pounds.' 

'  Show  him  in  here  immediately,'  said  Hugo. 

Mr.  Galpin  appeared  in  the  dressing-room, 
looking  more  than  ever  like  an  extremely 
successful  commercial  traveller.  Hugo  could 
not  think  of  any  introductory  remark  worthy 
of  the  occasion. 

*  I  needn't  say  how  grateful  I  am,'  Hugo 
began. 

'  Certainly  you  needn't,'  said  Mr.  Galpin. 
*  I  understand.  I've  been  under  lock  and 
key  myself.' 

'  I  should  offer  you  more  than  this  paltry 
sum,'  said  Hugo,  with  a  smile,  '  but  I  know, 
of  course,  that  a  man  like  you  can  always 
obtain  all  the  money  he  really  wants.' 

16 


242  HUGO 

Mr.  Galpin  smiled,  too. 

*  However,'  continued  Hugo,  detaching  his 
watch  from  his  waistcoat,  '  I  will  ask  you  to 
take  something  that  you  can't  get  elsewhere. 
This   is   the   thinnest   watch   in   the   world. 
Breguet,  of  the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  Paris,  made  it 
specially  for  me.     It  is  exactly  the  same  size 
as  a  five-shilling  piece.    It  repeats  the  quarters, 
shows  the  time  in  four  cities,  and  does  prac- 
tically  everything    except    tell    the   weather 
and  the  political  party  in  power.     It  has  one 
drawback.     Only  Breguet  can  clean  it,  and 
he  will  charge  you  five  guineas  for  the  job, 
besides    probably   having   you    arrested   for 
unlawful  possession.     I  must  write  to  him. 
Such  as  it  is,  accept  it.' 

The  golden,  jewelled  toy  was  offered  and 
received  with  a  bow.  The  practised  hands  of 
Mr.  Galpin  had  opened  the  case  in  two 
seconds. 

'  How  do  you  regulate  it  ?'  demanded  Mr. 
Galpin,  staring  at  the  movement. 

*  You  don't,'  said  Hugo  proudly  ;  '  it  never 
needs  it.' 

Mr.  Galpin  stood  corrected. 
'  If  there's  anything  in  my  line  I  can  do  for 
you  at  any  time,  sir,'  said  he, 
Hugo  pondered. 


SUICIDE  243 

Mr.  Galpin  put  the  watch  in  his  waistcoat- 
pocket,  and,  tearing  the  hundred-pound  note 
in  two  halves,  placed  one  half  in  the  left  breast 
pocket  of  his  coat,  and  the  other  half  in  the 
right  breast  pocket  of  his  coat. 

'  Could  you  have  opened  that  vault,'  Hugo 
asked,  '  if  both  keys  had  been  lost  ?' 

'  No,  sir,  I  could  not.  It's  such  people  as 
you  who  are  ruining  my  profession,  sir.' 

*  You  think  the  vault  is  impregnable  ?' 

*  Yes,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Galpin.     '  I  should  say 
its  name  was  just  about  as  near  being  Gibraltar 
as  makes  no  matter.' 

'  I  was  only  wondering,'  Hugo  mused  aloud, 
'  only  wondering.  .  .  .  Ah,  well,  I  won't 
trouble  you  with  my  fancies.' 

*  As  you  wish,  sir.     Good-bye.' 

6  Good-bye,  Mr.  Galpin.     And  thank  you  !' 

c  Thank  you,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Galpin,  and  dis- 
appeared. 

'  Simon,'  Hugo  ordered  immediately  after- 
wards, handing  Simon  the  token,  c  run  down 
and  get  me  the  best  gold  watch  in  the  place.' 

Throughout  the  morning  Hugo's  thoughts 
were  far  away.  Most  frequently  they  were 
in  Belgium,  but  now  and  then  they  paid  a 
strange  incomprehensible  visit  with  Ravengar 
to  the  vault. 

16—2 


244  HUGO 

While  he  was  lunching  under  the  dome, 
Albert  Shawn  came  in  with  the  early  edition 
of  the  Evening  Herald,  containing  a  prominent 
item  headed,  '  Feared  Suicide  of  Mr.  Louis 
Ravengar.'  The  paper  stated  that  Mr. 
Ravengar  had  gone  to  Dover  on  the  previous 
evening,  had  been  seen  to  board  the  Calais 
steamer,  and  had  been  missed  soon  after  the 
boat  had  left  the  harbour.  His  hat,  umbrella, 
rug,  and  bag  had  been  found  on  deck.  As 
the  night  was  quite  calm,  there  could  be  no 
other  explanation  than  that  of  suicide.  The 
Evening  Herald  gave  a  sympathetic  biography 
of  Mr.  Ravengar  ('  one  of  our  proprietors  '), 
and  attributed  his  suicide  to  a  fit  of  depression 
caused  by  the  entirely  groundless  rumours 
which  had  circulated  during  the  late  afternoon 
connecting  him  with  the  scandalous  disturb- 
ances at  Hugo's  sale. 

Hugo  dropped  the  organ  of  public  opinion. 

*  H'm  !'  he  observed  to  Albert. 

'  I'm  not  surprised,  sir,'  said  Albert. 

*  Aren't  you  ?'  said  Hugo.     '  Then,  there's 
nothing  more  to  be  said.' 

Since  Louis  Ravengar  had  certainly  been 
talking  with  Hugo  that  selfsame  morning,  it 
was  obviously  impossible  that  he  should  have 
committed  suicide  in  the  English  Channel 


SUICIDE  245 

some  twelve  hours  earlier.  Why,  then,  had 
he  arranged  for  this  elaborate  deception  to 
be  practised  ?  What  was  his  scheme  ?  His 
voice  through  the  telephone  had  been  so  quiet, 
so  resigned,  so  pathetic  ;  only  towards  the  end 
had  it  become  malevolent. 

Hugo  perceived  that  he  must  go  down  to 
the  vault.  No  !  He  dared  not  go  himself. 
The  sight  of  that  vault,  after  yesterday's 
emotions,  would  surely  be  beyond  his  power 
to  bear  ! 

*  Albert,'  he  said,  *  go  to  the  Safe  Deposit.' 

*  Yes,  sir.' 

*  And  inquire  if  anyone  named ' 

Hugo  stopped. 

*  Named  what,  sir  ?' 

'  Never  mind.  I'll  go  myself.  By  the 
way,'  he  said,  '  I  must  run  over  to  Belgium 
to-night.  Perhaps  I  may  take  you  with  me.' 

'  Don't  forget  the  inquest  on  Bentley 
to-morrow,  sir.  You'll  have  to  attend  that.' 

Hugo  made  a  gesture  of  excessive  annoy- 
ance. He  had  forgotten  the  inquest. 

'  Take  this  telegram,'  he  said,  suddenly 
inspired  ;  and  he  scribbled  out  the  following 
words  :  '  Darcy,  16,  Boulevard  des  Italiens, 
Paris.  Please  come  instantly ;  urgent  case. 
— HUGO,  London.' 


246  HUGO 

'  At  any  rate,  I've  made  a  beginning,'  he 
murmured  when  Albert  had  gone.  *  I  can 
find  out  all  that  is  to  be  known  about  Camilla 
from  Darcy — if  he  comes.  I  wonder  if  he'll 
come.  He'd  better.' 

And  then,  collecting  his  powers  of  self- 
control,  he  went  slowly  down  to  the  Safe 
Deposit,  and  entered  those  steely  and  dreadful 
portals. 

'  Getting  on  all  right  ?'  he  said  to  the  newly- 
installed  manager,  a  young  man  with  light 
hair  from  the  counting-house. 

c  Oh  yes,  Mr.  Hugo.' 

*  Any  new  customers  ?' 
He  trembled  for  the  reply. 

*  Yes,  sir.     Two  gentlemen  came  as  soon  as 
we  opened  this  morning,  and  took  Vault  39. 
They  paid  a  year's  rent  in  advance.     Two 
hundred  pounds.' 

'  What  did  they  want  a  whole  vault  for  ?' 

'  I  can't  say,  sir.  There  was  a  lot  of  going 
to  and  fro  with  parcels  and  things,  sir,  and  a 
lot  of  telephoning  in  the  waiting-room.  And 
one  of  them  asked  for  a  glass  and  some  water. 
They  were  here  a  long  time,  sir.' 

'  When  did  they  go  ?' 

'  It  was  about  ten-thirty,  sir,  when  one  of 
the  two  gentlemen  called  me  to  bring  my  key 


SUICIDE  247 

and  lock  up  the  vault.  The  vault  was  properly 
locked,  first  with  his  key,  and  then  with  mine, 
and  then  he  left.  Perhaps  it  might  be  a 
quarter  to  eleven,  sir.' 

'  But  the  other  gentleman  ?' 

'  Oh,  he  must  have  slipped  off  earlier,  sir. 
I  didn't  see  him  go.' 

'  What  did  he  look  like  ?' 

*  Oldish  man,  Mr.  Hugo.     Gray.' 

The  manager  was  somewhat  mystified  by 
this  cross-examination. 

*  And  the  name  ?' 

'  The  name  ?     Let  me  see.     Callear.     Yes, 
Callear,  sir.' 
'  What  ?' 
'  C-a-1-l-e-a-r.' 

*  What  was  the  address  ?' 

4  Hotel  Cecil.  He  said  he  would  send  a 
permanent  address  in  a  day  or  two.' 

In  half  an  hour  Hugo  had  ascertained  that 
no  person  named  Callear  was  staying  at  the 
Hotel  Cecil. 

He  understood  now,  understood  too  clearly, 
the  meanings  of  Ravengar's  strange  utterances 
on  the  telephone.  The  man  had  determined  to 
commit  suicide,  and  he  had  chosen  a  way 
which  was  calculated  with  the  most  appalling 
ingenuity  to  ruin,  if  anything  would  ruin, 


248  HUGO 

Hugo's  peace  of  mind  for  years  to  come— 
perhaps  for  ever.  For  the  world,  Ravengar 
was  drowned.  But  Hugo  knew  that  his  body 
was  lying  in  that  vault. 

'  Louis  had  an  accomplice,'  Hugo  reflected. 
"  Who  can  that  have  been  ?  Who  could  have 
been  willing  to  play  so  terrible  a  r61e  ?' 


CHAPTER  XXII 

DABCY 

THAT  night,  when  he  was  just  writing  out 
some  cheques  in  aid  of  charities  conducted  by 
Lady  Brice  (nee  Kentucky- Webster),  Simon 
entered  with  a  card.  The  hour  was  past  eleven. 

Hugo  read  on  the  card,  '  Docteur  Darcy.' 

He  had  nearly  forgotten  that  he  had  sent 
for  Darcy  ;  in  fact,  he  was  no  longer  quite  sure 
why  he  had  sent  for  him,  since  he  meant,  in 
any  case,  to  hasten  to  Belgium  at  the  earliest 
moment. 

'  You  are  exceedingly  prompt,  doctor,'  he 
said,  when  Darcy  came  into  the  dome.  *  I 
thank  you.' 

The  cosmopolitan  physician  appeared  to  be 
wearing  the  same  tourist  suit  that  he  had 
worn  on  the  night  of  Tudor' s  death.  The 
sallowness  of  his  impassive  face  had  increased 
somewhat,  and  his  long  thin  hands  had  their 
old  lackadaisical  air.  '  You  don't  look  at  all 

249 


250  HUGO 

the  man  for  such  a  parj;,'  said  Hugo  in  the 
privacy  of  his  brain,  '  but  you  played  your 
part  devilish  well  that  night,  my  pale  friend. 
You  deceived  me  perfectly.' 

'  Prompt  ?'  smiled  the  doctor,  shaking 
hands,  and  removing  his  overcoat  with 
fatigued  gestures. 

'  Yes  ;  you  must  have  caught  the  4  p.m. 
express,  and  come  via  Folkstone  and  Bou- 
logne.' 

'  I  did,'  said  Darcy. 

'  And  yet  I  expect  you  didn't  get  my  tele- 
gram till  after  two  o'clock.' 

'  I  have  received  no  telegram  from  you,  my 
dear  Mr.  Hugo.  It  had  not  arrived  when  I 
left.' 

'  Then  your  presence  here  to-night  is  due 
to  a  coincidence  merely  ?' 

*  Not  at  all,'  said  Darcy ;  '  it  is  due  to  an 
extreme  desire  on  my  part  to  talk  to  you.' 

'  The  desire  is  mutual,'  Hugo  answered, 
gently  insisting  that  Darcy  should  put  away 
his  cigarettes  and  take  a  Muria.  '  Dare  I 
ask ' 

Darcy  had  become  suddenly  nervous,  and 
he  burst  out,  interrupting  Hugo : 

'  The  suicide  of  Mr.  Ravengar  was  in  this 
morning's  Paris  papers.  And  I  may  tell  you 


DARCY  251 

at  once  that  it's  in  connection  with  that  affair 
that  I'm  here.' 

*  I  also '  Hugo  began. 

*  I  may  tell  you  at  once,'  Darcy  proceeded 
with  increasing  self-consciousness,  '  that  when 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  before,  Mr. 
Hugo,  I  was  forced  by  circumstances,  and  by 
my  promise  to  a  dead  friend,  to  behave  in  a 
manner  which  was  very  distasteful  to  me.     I 
was  obliged  to  lie  to  you,  to  play  a  trick  on 
you — in  short — well,  I  can  only  ask  you  for 
your  sympathy.     I  have  a  kind  of  a  forlorn 
notion    that    you'll    understand — after    I've 
explained,  as  I  mean  to  do ' 

'  If  you  refer  to  the  pretended  death  of 

Tudor's  wife '  said  Hugo. 

'  Then  you  know  ?'  Darcy  cried,  astounded. 

*  I  know.     I  know  everything,  or  nearly 
everything.' 

'How?'  Darcy  retreated  towards  the  piano. 

*  I  will  explain  how  some  other  time,'  Hugo 
replied,  going  also  to  the  piano  and  facing 
his  guest.     *  You  did  magnificently  that  night, 
doctor.     Don't  imagine  for  a  moment  that 
my  feelings  towards  you  in  regard  to  that 
disastrous   evening   are   anything   but   those 
of  admiration.     And  now  tell  me  about  her 
— about  her.     She  is  well  ?' 


252  HUGO 

Hugo  put  a  hand  on  the  man's  shoulder, 
and  persuaded  him  back  to  his  chair. 

'  She  is  well — I  hope  and  believe,'  answered 
Darcy. 

'  You  don't  see  her  often  ?' 

'  On  the  contrary,  I  see  her  every  day, 
nearly.' 

'  But  if  she  lives  at  Bruges  and  you  are  in 
Paris > 

*  Bruges  ?' 

'  Yes  ;  Place  Saint-Etienne.' 
Darcy  thought  for  a  second. 

*  So  it's  you  who  have  been  on  the  track,' 
he  murmured. 

Hugo,  too,  became  meditative  in  his  turn. 

' 1  wish  you  would  tell  me  all  that  hap- 
pened since — since  that  night,'  he  said  at 
length. 

*  I  ask  nothing  better,'  said  Darcy.     c  Since 
Ravengar  is  dead  and  all  danger  passed,  there 
is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  know  every- 
thing that  is  to  be  known.     Well,  Mr.  Hugo, 
I  have  had  an  infinity  of  trouble  with  that 
girl.' 

Hugo's  expression  gave  pause  to  the  doctor. 

*  I  mean  with  Mrs.  Tudor,'  he  added  cor- 
rectively.    '  I'll  begin  at  the  beginning.    After 
the    disappearance — the    typhoid    disappear- 


DARCY  253 

ance,  you  know— she  went  to  Algiers.  Tudor 
had  taken  a  villa  at  Mustapha  Superieure, 
the  healthiest  suburb  of  the  town.  After 
Tudor' s  sudden  death  I  telegraphed  to  her 
to  come  back  to  me  in  Paris.  I  couldn't 
bring  myself  to  wire  that  Tudor  was  dead. 
I  only  said  he  was  ill.  And  at  first  she 
wouldn't  come.  She  thought  it  was  a  ruse 
of  Ravengar's.  She  thought  Ravengar  had 
discovered  her  hiding-place,  and  all  sorts  of 
things.  However,  in  the  end  she  came.  I 
met  her  at  Marseilles.  You  wouldn't  believe, 
Mr.  Hugo,  how  shocked  she  was  by  the  news 
of  her  husband's  death.  Possibly  I  didn't 
break  it  to  her  too  neatly.  She  didn't  pre- 
tend to  love  him — never  had  done — but  she 
was  shocked  all  the  same.  I  had  a  terrible 
scene  with  her  at  the  Hotel  Terminus  at  Mar- 
seilles. Her  whole  attitude  towards  the  mar- 
riage changed  completely.  She  insisted  that 
it  was  plain  to  her  then  that  she  had  simply 
sold  herself  for  money.  She  said  she  hated 
herself.  And  she  swore  she  would  never 
touch  a  cent  of  Tudor' s  fortune — not  even 
if  the  fortune  went  to  the  Crown  in  default 
of  legal  representatives.' 

*  Poor  creature  !'  Hugo  breathed. 

*  However,'  Darcy  proceeded,  '  something 


254  HUGO 

had  to  be  done.  She  was  supposed  to  be 
dead,  and  if  her  life  was  to  be  saved  from 
Ravengar's  vengeance,  she  just  had  to  con- 
tinue to  be  dead — at  any  rate,  as  regards 
England.  So  she  couldn't  go  back  to  Eng- 
land. Now  I  must  explain  that  my  friend 
Tudor  hadn't  left  her  with  much  money.' 

'  That  was  careless.' 

'  It  was,'  Darcy  admitted.  *  Still,  he 
naturally  relied  on  me  in  case  of  necessity. 
And  quite  rightly.  I  was  prepared  to  let 
Mrs.  Tudor  have  all  the  money  she  wanted, 
she  repaying  me  as  soon  as  events  allowed 
her  to  handle  Tudor' s  estate.  But  as  she 
had  decided  never  to  handle  Tudor' s  estate, 
she  had  no  prospect  of  being  able  to  repay 
me.  Hence  she  would  accept  nothing.  Hence 
she  began  to  starve.  Awkward,  wasn't  it  ?' 

*  I  see  clearly  that  she  could  not  come  to 
England  to  earn  her  living,'  said  Hugo,  '  but 
could  she  not  have  earned  it  in  Paris  ?' 

'  No,'  Darcy  replied  ;  '  she  couldn't  earn  it 
regularly.  And  the  reason  was  that  she  was 
too  beautiful.  Situation  after  situation  was 
made  impossible  for  her.  She  might  easily 
havo  married  in  Paris,  but  earn  her  living 
there — no  !  In  the  end  she  was  obliged  to 
accept  money  from  me,  but  only  in  very 


DARCY  255 

small  sums,  such  as  she  could  repay  without 
much  difficulty  when  Ravengar's  death  should 
permit  her  to  return  to  England.  She  was 
always  sure  of  Ravengar's  death,  but  she 
would  never  tell  me  why.  And  now  he's  dead.' 

'  And  there  is  no  further  obstacle  to  her 
coming  to  England  ?' 

'  None  whatever.  That  is  to  say — except 
one.' 

'  What  do  you  mean  ?'  Hugo  demanded. 

Darcy  had  flushed. 

'  I'm  in  a  very  delicate  position,'  said  Darcy. 
'  I've  got  to  explain  to  you  something  that  a 
man  can't  explain  without  looking  an  ass. 
The  fact  is — of  course,  you  see,  Mr.  Hugo,  I 
did  all  I  could  for  her  all  the  time.  Not  out 
of  any  special  regard  for  her,  but  for  Tudor' s 
sake,  you  understand.  She's  awfully  beauti- 
ful, and  all  that.  I've  nothing  against  her. 
But  I  believe  I  told  you  last  year  that  I  had 
been  in  love  once.  That  "  once  "  was  enough. 
I've  done  with  women,  Mr.  Hugo.' 

'  But  how  does  this  affect—  -'  Hugo  began 
to  inquire,  rather  inimically. 

'  Can't  you  see  ?  She  doesn't  want  to 
leave  Paris.  I  did  all  I  could  for  her  all  the 
time.  I've  been  her  friend  in  adversity,  and 
so  on,  and  so  on,  and  she's — she's ' 


256  HUGO 

'  What  on  earth  are  you  driving  at,  man  ?' 

*  She's  fallen  in  love  with  me.     That's  what 
I'm  driving  at.     And  now  you  know.' 

'  My  dear  sir,'  said  Hugo  earnestly,  c  if  she 
is  in  love  with  you,  you  must  marry  her  and 
make  her  happy.' 

He  did  not  desire  to  say  this,  but  some 
instinct  within  him  compelled  him  to  utter 
the  words. 

*  You  told  me  that  you  loved  her,'  Darcy 
retorted. 

'  I  told  you  the  truth.     I  do.' 

A  silence  ensued.  All  Hugo's  previous  dis- 
couragements, sadnesses,  preoccupations,  de- 
spairs, were  as  nothing  in  comparison  with 
the  black  mood  which  came  upon  him  when 
he  learnt  this  simple  fact — that  Camilla  had 
fallen  in  love  with  Darcy. 

*  She  is  still  in  Paris  ?'  he  asked,  to  end  the 
silence. 

*  I — I  don't  know.     I  called  at  her  lodgings 
at  noon,  and  she  had  gone  and  left  no  address.' 

Hugo  jumped  up. 

'  She  can't  have  disappeared  again  ?' 

'  Oh  no  ;  rest  assured.  Doubtless  a  mere 
change  of  rooms.  When  I  return  I  shall 
certainly  find  a  letter  awaiting  me.' 

'  Why  did  you  come  to  me  ?' 


DARCY  257 

'  Well,'  Darcy  said,  c  you  told  me  you  loved 
her,  and  I  thought — I  thought  perhaps  you'd 
come  over  to  Paris,  and  see — see  what  could 
be  done.  That's  why  I  came.  The  thing's 
on  my  mind,  you  know.' 

'  Just  so,'  Hugo  answered,  c  and  I  will 
come.' 


CHAPTER  XXHI 

FIRST  TRIUMPH  OF   SIMON 

A  WEEK  later,  Simon  and  Albert  stood  talking 
together  in  Simon's  room  adjoining  the  dome. 
Simon  had  that  air  of  absolute  spruceness  and 
freshness  which  in  persons  who  have  stayed 
at  home  is  so  extremely  offensive  to  persons 
who  have  just  arrived  exhausted  and  unclean 
from  a  tiresome  journey.  It  was  Albert  who, 
with  Hugo,  had  arrived  from  the  journey. 
'  Had  a  good  time,  Alb  ?'  Simon  asked. 

*  So-so,'  said  Albert  cautiously. 

'  By  the  way,  what  did  you  go  to  Paris  for  ¥ 
'  Didn't  you  know  ?' 
'  How  should  I  know,  my  son  ?' 
'  The  governor  wanted  to  find  that  girl  of 
his.' 

'  What  girl  ?'  Simon  asked  innocently. 

*  Oh,   chuck  it,   Si !'   Albert  remonstrated 
against  these  affectations  of  ignorance  in  a 
relative  from  whom  he  had  no  secrets, 

'  You  mean  Mrs.  Tudor  ?' 

258 


FIRST  TRIUMPH  OF  SIMON      259 

'  Yes.' 

*  She's  disappeared  again,  has  she  ?     And 
you  couldn't  find  her  ?' 

Albert  concurred. 

'  It  seems  to  me,  Alb,'  said  Simon,  *  that 
you  aren't  shining  very  brilliantly  just  now 
as  a  detective.  And  I'm  rather  surprised, 
because  I've  been  doing  a  bit  of  detective 
work  myself,  and  it's  nothing  but  just  using 
your  eyes.' 

'  What  have  you  been  up  to  ?'  Albert  in- 
quired. 

*  Oh,    nothing.      Never    you    mind.      It's 
purely    unofficial.       You    see,     I'm    not    a 
detective.     I'm  only  a  servant  that  gets  left 
at  home.     I've   only  been  amusing  myself. 
Still,  I've  found  out  a  thing  or  two  that  you'd 
give  your  eyes  to  know,  my  son.' 

*  What  ?' 

Albert  pursued  his  quest  of  knowledge. 

'  You  get  along  home  to  your  little  wife,' 
Simon  enjoined  him.  '  You're  a  professional 
detective,  you  are.  No  doubt  when  you've 
recovered  from  Paris,  and  got  into  your  stride, 
you'll  find  out  all  that  I  know  and  a  bit  over 
in  about  two  seconds.  Off  you  go  !' 

Simon's  eyes  glinted. 

And  later,  when  he  was  giving  Hugo  the 

17—2 


260  HUGO 

last  ministrations  for  the  night,  Simon  looked 
at  his  lord  as  a  cat  looks  at  the  mouse  it  is 
playing  with — humorously,  viciously,  sarcas- 
tically. 

*  I'll  give  him  a  night  to  lie  awake  in,'  said 
Simon's  eyes. 

But  he  only  allowed  his  eyes  to  make 
this  speech  while  Hugo's  back  was  turned. 

The  next  morning  Hugo's  mood  was  deso- 
lating. To  speak  to  him  was  to  play  with 
fire.  Obviously,  Hugo  had  heard  the  clock 
strike  all  the  hours.  Nevertheless,  Simon 
permitted  himself  to  be  blithe,  even  offen- 
sively blithe.  And  when  Hugo  had  finished 
with  him  he  ventured  to  linger. 

'  You  needn't  wait,'  said  Hugo,  in  a  voice 
of  sulphuric  acid. 

*  So  you  didn't  find  Mrs.  Francis  Tudor, 
sir  ?'  responded  Simon,  with  calm  and  beauti- 
ful insolence. 

It  was  insolence  because,  though  few  of 
Hugo's  secrets  were  hid  from  Simon,  the 
intercourse  between  master  and  servant 
was  conducted  on  the  basis  of  a  convention 
that  Simon's  ignorance  of  Hugo's  affairs  was 
complete.  And  if  the  convention  was  ig- 
nored, as  it  sometimes  was,  Hugo  alone  had 
tne  rigiit  to  begin  the  ignoring  of  it. 


FIRST  TRIUMPH  OF  SIMON      261 

*  What's  that  you  said  ?'  Hugo  demanded. 

'  You  didn't  find  Mrs.  Francis  Tudor,  sir  ?' 
Simon  blandly  repeated. 

*  Mind  your  own  business,  my  friend,'  he 
said. 

6  Certainly,  sir,'  said  Simon.  *  But  I  had 
intended  to  add  that  possibly  you  had  not 
been  searching  for  Mrs.  Tudor  in  the  right 
city.' 

Hugo  stared  at  Simon,  who  retreated  to 
the  door. 

'  What  in  thunder  do  you  mean  ?'  Hugo 
asked  coldly  and  deliberately. 

At  last  Simon  felt  a  tremor. 

*  I  mean,  sir,  that  I  think  I  know  where 
she  is.     At  least,  I  know  where  she  will  be 
in  a  couple  of  hours'  time.' 

'  Where  ?' 

'  In  Department  42 — her  old  department, 
sir.' 

By  a  terrific  effort  Hugo  kept  calm. 

'  Simon,'  he  said,  c  don't  play  any  tricks  on 
me.  If  you  do,  I'll  thrash  you  first,  and  then 
dismiss  you  on  the  spot.' 

4  It's  through  the  new  manager  of  the 
drapery,  sir,  in  place  of  Mr.  Bentley — I  forget 
his  name.  Mr.  Bentley's  room  being  all  upset 
with  police  and  accountants  and  things,  the 


262  HUGO 

new  manager  has  been  using  your  office.  And 
I  was  in  there  to-day,  and  he  was  engaging  a 
young  lady  for  the  millinery,  sir.  He  didn't 
recognise  her,  not  having  been  here  long 
enough,  but  I  did.  It  was  Miss  Payne.' 

*  Impossible  !' 

'  Yes,  sir  ;  Miss  Payne — that  is  to  say,  Mrs. 
Tudor.  I  heard  him  say,  "  Very  well,  you 
can  start  to-morrow  morning."  ' 

'  That's  this  morning  ?' 

4  Yes,  sir.' 

'  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  this  last  night  ?' 
Hugo  roared. 

*  It  slipped  my  memory,  sir,'  said  Simon, 
surpassing  all  previous  feats  of  insolence. 

Hugo,  speechless,  waved  him  out  of  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE    LODGING-HOUSE 

THE  thought  of  soon  seeing  her  intoxicated 
him.  His  head  swam,  his  heart  leapt,  his 
limbs  did  what  they  liked,  being  forgotten. 
And  then,  as  he  sobered  himself,  he  tried 
seriously  to  find  an  answer  to  this  question  : 
Why  had  she  returned,  as  it  were  surrepti- 
tiously, to  the  very  building  from  which  her 
funeral  was  supposed  to  have  taken  place  ? 
Could  she  imagine  that  oblivion  had  covered 
her  adventure,  and  that  the  three  thousand 
five  hundred  would  ignore  the  fact  that  she 
was  understood  to  be  dead  ?  He  found  no 
answer — at  least,  no  satisfactory  answer — 
except  that  women  are  women,  and  therefore 
incalculable. 

*  Go  and  see  if  she  is  there,'  he  said  to 
Simon  at  five  minutes  to  nine. 

'  She  is  there,'  said  Simon  at  five  minutes 
past  nine ;  *  in  one  of  the  work-rooms  alone.' 

263 


264  HUGO 

Then  Hugo  put  a  heavy  curb  on  his  in- 
stincts, and  came  to  a  sudden  resolve. 

'  Tell  the  new  drapery  manager,'  he  in- 
structed Simon,  '  to  give  instructions  to  Mrs. 
Tudor,  or  Miss  Payne,  whichever  she  calls 
herself,  that  she  is  to  meet  him  in  my  central 
office  at  six  o'clock  this  evening.  He,  how- 
ever, is  not  to  be  there.  She  is  to  wait  in 
the  room  alone,  if  I  have  not  arrived.  Inform 
no  one  that  I  have  returned  from  Paris.  I 
am  now  going  out  for  the  day.' 

'  Yes,  sir.' 

Hugo  thereupon  took  train  to  Ealing.  He 
walked  circuitously  through  the  middle  of 
the  day  from  Ealing  to  Harrow,  alone  with 
his  thoughts  in  the  frosty  landscape.  From 
Harrow  he  travelled  by  express  to  Euston, 
reaching  town  at  five-thirty.  Somehow  or 
other  the  day  had  passed.  He  got  to  Sloane 
Street  at  six,  and  ascended  direct  to  his  central 
office. 

Had  his  orders  been  executed  ?  Would 
she  be  waiting  ?  As  he  hesitated  outside 
the  door  he  was  conscious  that  his  whole 
frame  shook.  He  entered  silently. 

Yes,  she  was  there.  She  sat  on  the  edge 
of  a  chair  near  the  fire,  staring  at  the  fire. 
She  was  dressed  in  the  customary  black. 


THE  LODGING-HOUSE  265 

Ah  !  it  was  the  very  face  he  had  seen  in  the 
coffin,  the  same  marvellous  and  incomparable 
features  ;  not  even  sadder,  not  aged  by  a  day  ; 
the  same  ! 

She  turned  at  the  sound  of  the  closing  of 
the  door,  and,  upon  seeing  him,  started 
slightly.  Then  she  rose,  and  delicately  blushed. 

'  Good-evening,  Mr.  Hugo/  she  said,  in  a 
low,  calm  voice.  *  I  did  not  expect  to  see 
you.' 

Great  poetical  phrases  should  have  rushed 
to  his  lips — phrases  meet  for  a  tremendous 
occasion.  But  they  did  not.  He  sighed. 
'  I  can  only  say  what  comes  into  my  head,' 
he  thought  ruefully.  And  he  said  : 

'  Did  I  startle  you  ?' 

'  Not  much,'  she  replied.  *  I  knew  I  must 
meet  you  one  day  or  another  soon.  And  it 
is  better  at  once.' 

'  Just  so,'  he  said.  '  It  is  better  at  once. 
Sit  down,  please.  I've  been  walking  all  day, 
and  I  can  scarcely  stand.'  And  he  dropped 
into  a  chair.  '  Do  you  know,  dear  lady,'  he 
proceeded,  '  that  Doctor  Darcy  and  I  have 
been  hunting  for  you  all  over  Paris  ?' 

He  managed  to  get  a  little  jocularity  into 
his  tone,  and  this  achievement  eased  his 
attitude. 


266  HUGO 

'  No,'  she  said,  *  I  didn't  know.  I'm  very 
sorry.' 

'  But  why  didn't  you  let  Darcy  know  that 
you  were  coming  to  London  ?' 

4  Mr.  Hugo,'  she  answered,  with  a  charming 
gesture,  *  I  will  tell  you.'  And  she  got  up 
from  her  chair  and  came  to  another  one 
nearer  his  own.  This  delicious  action  filled 
him  with  profound  bliss.  c  When  I  read  in 
the  paper  that  Mr.  Ravengar  had  committed 
suicide,  I  had  just  enough  money  in  my 
pocket  to  pay  my  expenses  to  London,  and 
to  keep  me  a  few  days  here.  And  I  did  so 
want  to  come  !  I  did  so  want  to  come  !  I 
came  by  the  morning  train.  It  was  an  in- 
spiration. I  waited  for  nothing.  I  meant 
to  write  to  Mr.  Darcy  that  same  night,  but 
that  same  night  I  caught  sight  of  him  here 
in  Sloane  Street,  so  I  knew  it  was  no  use 
writing  just  then.  And  I  didn't  care  for  him 
to  see  me.  I  thought  I  would  give  him  time 
to  return.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  wrote 
yesterday  evening.  He  would  get  the  letter 
to-night.  I  hope  my  disappearance  didn't 
cause  you  any  anxiety  ?' 

*  Anxiety  !'  He  repeated  the  word.  '  You 
don't  know  what  I've  been  through.  I  feared 
that  Ravengar,  before  killing  himself,  had 


THE  LODGING-HOUSE  267 

arranged  to — to — I  don't  know  what  I  feared. 
Horrible,  unmentionable  things  !  You  can't 
guess  what  I've  been  through.' 

*  I,  too,  have  suffered  since  we  met  last,' 
said  Camilla  softly. 

4  Don't  talk  of  it— don't  talk  of  it !'  he 
entreated  her.  4  I  know  all.  I  saw  your 
image  in  a  coffin.  I  have  heard  your  late 
husband's  statement.  And  Darcy  has  told 
me  much.  Let  us  forget  all  that,  and  let  us 
forget  it  for  evermore.  But  you  have  to 
remember,  nevertheless,  that  in  London  you 
have  the  reputation  of  being  dead.' 

4 1  have  not  forgotten,'  she  said,  with  a 
beautiful  inflection  and  a  bending  of  the  head, 
4  that  I  promised  to  thank  you  the  next  time 
we  met  for  what  you  did  for  me.  Let  me 
thank  you  now.  Tell  me  how  I  can  thank 
you!' 

He  wanted  to  cry  out  that  she  was  divine, 
and  that  she  must  do  exactly  what  she  liked 
with  him.  And  then  he  wanted  to  take  her 
and  clasp  her  till  she  begged  for  her  breath. 
And  he  was  tempted  to  inform  her  that  though 
she  loved  Darcy  as  man  was  never  loved 
before,  still  she  should  marry  him,  Hugo,  or 
Darcy  should  die. 

4  Sit  down,'  he  said  in  a  quiet,  familiar  voice. 


268  HUGO 

'  Don't  bother  about  thanking  me.  Just  tell 
me  all  about  the  history  of  your  relations  with 
Ravengar.'  And  to  himself  he  said :  '  She 
shall  talk  to  me,  and  I  will  listen,  and  we  shall 
begin  to  be  intimate.  This  is  the  greatest 
happiness  I  can  have.  Hang  the  future  !  I 
will  give  way  to  my  mood.  Darcy  said  she 
didn't  want  to  leave  Paris,  but  she  has  left  it. 
That's  something.' 

*  I  will  do  anything  you  want,'  she  answered 
almost  gaily  ;  and  she  sat  down  again. 

'  I  doubt  it,'  he  smiled.     '  However * 

The  sense  of  intimacy,  of  nearness,  gave  him 
acute  pleasure,  as  at  their  first  interview 
months  ago. 

'  I  would  like  to  tell  you,'  she  began  ;  c  and 
there  is  no  harm  now.  Where  shall  I  start  ? 
Well ' — she  became  suddenly  grave — '  Mr. 
Ravengar  used  to  pass  my  father's  shop  in  the 
Edgware  Road.  He  came  in  to  buy  things. 
It  was  a  milliner's  shop,  and  so  he  could  buy 
nothing  but  bonnets  and  hats.  He  bought 
bonnets  and  hats.  I  often  served  him.  He 
gave  my  father  some  very  good  hints  about 
shares,  but  my  father  never  took  them. 
When  my  parents  both  died,  Mr.  Ravengar 
was  extremely  sympathetic,  and  offered  me  a 
situation  in  his  office.  I  took  it.  I  became 


THE  LODGING-HOUSE  269 

his  secretary.  He  was  always  very  polite 
and  considerate  to  me,  except  sometimes  when 
he  got  angry  with  everybody,  including  me. 
He  couldn't  help  being  rude  then.  He  had 
an  old  clerk  named  Powitt,  who  sat  in  the 
outer  office,  and  seemed  to  do  nothing. 
Powitt  had  just  brains  enough  to  gamble, 
and  he  gambled  in  the  shares  of  Mr.  Raven- 
gar's  companies.  I  know  he  lost  money, 
because  he  used  to  confide  in  me  and  grumble 
at  Mr.  Ravengar  for  not  giving  him  proper 
tips.  Mr.  Ravengar  simply  sneered  at  him— 
he  was  very  hard.  Powitt  had  a  younger 
brother,  who  was  engaged  in  another  City 
office,  and  this  younger  brother  also  gambled 
in  Ravengar  shares,  and  also  lost.  The  two 
brothers  gambled  more  and  more,  and  old 
Powitt  once  told  me  that  Mr.  Ravengar 
misled  them  sometimes  from  sheer — what 
shaU  I  call  it  ?' 

'  Devilry,'  Hugo  suggested.  *  I  can  believe 
it.  That  would  be  his  idea  of  a  good  joke.' 

4  By-and-by  I  learnt  that  they  were  in 
serious  difficulties.  Young  Powitt  was 
married,  but  his  wife  left  him — I  believe  he 
had  taken  to  drink.  There  was  a  glass  par- 
tition between  my  room  and  Mr.  Ravengar' s — 
ground  glass  at  the  bottom,  clear  glass  at  the 


270  HUGO 

top.  One  night,  after  hours,  1  went  back  to  the 
office  for  an  umbrella  which  I  had  forgotten, 
and  I  found  young  Powitt  trying  to  open  the 
petty-cash-box  in  my  room.  He  had  not 
succeeded,  and  I  just  told  him  to  go,  and  that 
I  should  forget  I  had  seen  him  there.  He 
kissed  my  hand.  And  just  then  the  outer 
door  of  the  office  opened,  and  someone 
entered.  I  turned  off  the  light  in  my  room. 
Young  Powitt  crouched  down.  It  was  Mr. 
Ravengar.  He  went  to  his  own  room.  I 
jumped  on  a  chair,  and  looked  through  the 
glass  screen.  Old  Powitt  was  hanging  by  the 
neck  from  the  brass  curtain-rod  in  Mr. 
Ravengar's  room.  While  young  Powitt  was 
trying  to  get  out  of  their  difficulties  by 
thieving,  old  Powitt  had  taken  a  shorter  way. 
Mr.  Ravengar  looked  at  the  body  swinging 
there,  and  I  heard  him  say,  "  Ah  !"  Like 
that !' 

*  Great  heaven  !'  cried  Hugo,  '  you've  been 
through  sufficient  in  your  time  !' 

*  Yes.'     Camilla   paused.     '  Mr.    Ravengar 
cut  down  the  body,  searched  the  pockets,  took 
out  a  paper,  read  it,  and  put  it  in  his  own 
pocket.     Then  the  old  man's  lips  twitched. 
He  was  not  quite  dead,  after  all.     Mr.  Raven- 
gar  stared  at  the  face  ;  and  then,  by  means  of 


THE  LODGING-HOUSE  271 

putting  a  chair  on  a  table  and  lifting  Powitt 
on  to  the  chair,  he  tied  up  the  cord  which  he 
had  cut,  and  left  the  poor  old  man  to 
swing  again.  It  was  an — an  interrupted 
suicide.' 

She  stopped  once  more,  and  Hugo  fervently 
wished  he  had  never  asked  her  to  begin.  He 
gazed  at  her  set  face  with  a  fascinated  glance. 

4  All  this  time,'  she  resumed,  '  young  Powitt 
had  been  crouching  on  the  floor,  and  had  seen 
nothing.' 

'  And  what  did  you  do  ?' 

*  I  fainted,  and  fell  off  my  chair.  The  noise 
startled  Mr.  Ravengar,  and  he  came  round  into 
my  room.  Young  Powitt  met  him  at  the 
door,  and,  to  explain  his  presence  there,  he 
said  that  he  had  come  to  see  his  brother. 
Mr.  Ravengar  said :  "  Your  brother  is  in  the 
next  room."  But  instead  of  going  into  the 
next  room,  young  Powitt  ran  off.  Then  Mr. 
Ravengar  perceived  me  on  the  floor.  My 
first  words  to  him  when  I  recovered  conscious- 
ness were  :  "  Why  did  you  hang  him  up  again, 
Mr.  Ravengar  ?"  He  was  staggered.  He 
actually  tried  to  justify  himself,  and  said  it 
was  best  for  the  old  man — the  oJd  man  had 
wanted  to  die,  and  so  on.  Mr.  Ravengar 
certainly  thought  that  young  Powitt  had  seen 


272  HUGO 

what  I  had  seen.  That  very  night  young 
Powitt  was  arrested  for  another  theft,  from 
his  own  employers,  and  it  was  not  till  after 
his  arrest  that  he  learnt  that  his  brother  had 
committed  suicide.  He  got  four  years.  When 
he  received  sentence,  he  swore  that  he  would 
kill  Mr.  Ravengar  immediately  he  came  out  of 
prison.  I  heard  his  threat.  I  knew  him,  and 
I  knew  that  he  meant  it.  He  argued  that 
Mr.  Ravengar' s  financial  operations  had 
ruined  thousands  of  people,  including  his 
brother  and  himself. 

c  But  the  inquest  on  old  Powitt — I  seem  to 
remember  about  it.  Why  didn't  you  give 
evidence  ?' 

'  Because  I  was  ill  with  brain-fever.  When 
I  recovered,  all  was  finished.  What  was  I  to 
do  ?  I  warned  Mr.  Ravengar  that  young 
Powitt  meant  to  kill  him.  He  laughed.  Of 
course,  I  left  him.  It  is  my  belief  that  Mr. 
Ravengar  was  always  a  little  mad.  If  he  was 
not  so  before,  this  affair  had  strained  his 
intelligence  too  much.' 

'  You  did  a  very  wrong  thing,'  said  Hugo, 
*  in  keeping  silence.' 

'  Put  yourself  in  my  place,'  Camilla 
answered.  '  Think  of  all  the  facts.  It  was 
all  so  queer.  And — and — Mr.  Ravengar  had 


THE  LODGING-HOUSE  273 

found  me  in  the  room  with  young  Powitt. 
Suppose  he  had ' 

c  Say  no  more,'  Hugo  besought  her.  '  How 
long  is  this  ago  ?' 

4  Three  years  last  June.  In  six  months 
young  Powitt' s  sentence  will  be  up.' 

Hugo  nearly  leapt  from  his  chair. 

'  Is  it  possible,  Mrs.  Tudor,'  he  asked  her 
eagerly,  c  that  you  are  not  aware  that  in 
actual  practice  a  reasonably  well-behaved 
prisoner  never  serves  the  full  period  of  his 
sentence  ?  Marks  for  good  conduct  are 
allowed,  and  each  mark  means  so  many 
days  deducted  from  the  term.' 

'I  didn't  know,'  said  Camilla  simply. 
'  How  should  I  know  a  thing  like  that  ?' 

'  I  have  no  doubt  that  young  Powitt  is 
already  free.  And  if  he  is ' 

'  You  think  that  Mr.  Ravengar's  suicide 
may  not  have  been  a  suicide  ?' 

Hugo  hesitated. 

'  Yes,'  he  said,  and  lapsed  into  reflection. 


*  I  shall  see  you  home,'  he  said. 

*  I  am  going  to  walk,'  she  replied.     *  And 
I  have  to  get  my  things  from  the  cloak-room.' 

'  I  will  walk  with  you,'  he  said. 

18 


274  HUGO 

*  What  style  the  woman  has !'  he  though^ 
enraptured. 

They  proceeded  southwards  in  silence. 
Then  suddenly  she  asked  how  he  had  left 
Mr.  Darcy,  and  they  began  to  talk  about 
Darcy  and  Paris.  Hugo  encouraged  her. 
He  wished  to  know  the  worst. 

'  Except  my  father,'  she  said,  c  I  have  never 
met  anyone  with  more  sense  than  Mr.  Darcy> 
or  anyone  more  kind.  I  might  have  been 
dead  now  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Mr.  Darcy.' 

*  Mr.  Darcy  is  a  very  decent  fellow,'  Hugo 
remarked  experimentally. 

She  turned  and  gave  him  a  look.  No,  it 
was  not  a  look ;  it  was  the  merest  fraction  of 
a  look,  but  it  withered  him  up. 

*  She  loves  him  !'  he  thought.     *  And  what's 
more,  if  she  hadn't  made  up  her  mind  to 
marry  him,  she  wouldn't  be  so  precious  easy 
and  facile  and  friendly  with  me.     I  might 
have  guessed  that.' 

They  passed  Victoria  Station,  and  came 
into  Horseferry  Road.  She  had  informed 
him  that  she  had  taken  a  furnished  room  in 
Horseferry  Road.  The  high  and  sinister 
houses  appeared  unspeakably  and  disgrace- 
fully mean  to  him  in  the  wintry  gloom  of  the 
gaslights.  She  halted  before  a  tenement  that 


THE  LODGING-HOUSE  275 

seemed  even  more  odious  than  its  neighbours. 
Was  it  possible  that  she  should  exist  in  such 
a  quarter  ?  The  idea  sickened  him. 

c  Which  floor  ?'  he  questioned. 

'Oh,'  she  laughed,  'the  top,  the  fifth. 
'  Good-night,  Mr.  Hugo.' 

He  pictured  the  mean  and  frowsy  room, 
and  shuddered.  Yet  what  could  he  do  ? 
What  right  had  he  to  interfere,  to  criticise, 
to  ameliorate  ? 

'  Good-night,'  she  repeated,  and  in  a 
moment  she  had  opened  the  door  with  a  latch- 
key and  disappeared.  He  stood  staring  at  the 
door.  He  had  by  no  means  finished  saying 
all  that  he  meant  to  say  to  her.  He  must 
talk  to  her  further.  He  must  show  her  that 
he  could  not  be  dismissed  in  that  summary 
fashion.  He  mounted  the  two  dirty  steps, 
and  rang  the  bell  in  a  determined  manner. 
He  heard  it  tinkle  distantly. 

She  was  divine,  adorable,  marvellous,  and 
far  beyond  the  deserts  of  any  man ;  but  she 
had  not  shaken  hands  with  him,  and  she  had 
treated  him  as  she  might  have  treated  one  of 
the  shopwalkers.  Moreover,  the  question  of 
to-morrow  had  to  be  decided. 

There  was  no  answer  to  the  bell,  and  he 
rang  again,  with  an  increase  of  energy. 

18—2 


276  HUGO 

Then  he  perceived  through  the  fanlight  an 
illumination  in  the  hall.  The  door  opened 
cautiously,  as  such  doors  always  do  open,  and 
a  middle-aged  man  in  a  dressing-gown  stood 
before  him.  In  the  background  he  descried 
a  small  table  with  a  candle  on  it,  and  the  foul, 
polished  walls  of  the  narrow  lobby — a  repre- 
sentative London  lodging-house. 

'  I  want  to  see  Mrs.  Tudor,'  said  Hugo. 

'  Well,  she  ain't  in  at  the  moment,'  replied 
the  man. 

'  Excuse  me,'  Hugo  corrected  him,  *  I  saw 
her  enter  a  minute  ago  with  her  latchkey.' 

'  No,  you  didn't,'  the  man  persisted.  '  I'm 
the  landlord  of  this  house,  and  I've  been  in 
my  room  at  the  back,  and  nobody's  come  in 
this  last  half -hour,  for  I  can  see  the  'all  and 
the  stairs  as  I  sits  in  my  chair.' 

'  Wait  a  moment,'  said  Hugo ;  and  he  re- 
treated to  the  kerb,  in  the  expectation  of 
being  able  to  descry  Camilla's  light  in  the 
fifth  story. 

'  Oh,  you  can  look,'  the  landlord  observed 
loftily,  divining  his  intention ;  *  I  warrant 
there's  no  light  there.' 

And  there  was  not. 

'  Perhaps  you'll  call  again,'  said  the  land- 
lord suavely. 


THE  LODGING-HOUSE  277 

'  I  suppose  you  haven't  got  a  room  to  let  ?' 
Hugo  demanded,  fumbling  about  in  his  brain 
for  a  plan  to  meet  this  swift  crisis. 

4 1  can't  tell  you  till  my  wife  comes  home.' 

'  And  when  will  that  be  ?' 

*  That'll  be  to-morrow.' 

The  door  was  banged  to.  Hugo  rang  again, 
wrathfully,  but  the  door  remained  obstinate. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

CHLOROFORM 

'  COME  in,'  said  Simon  grandly,  in  response  to 
a  knock. 

He  was  seated  in  his  master's  chair  in  the 
dome,  which  was  lit  as  though  for  a  fete. 
The  clock  showed  the  hour  of  nine. 

Albert  entered. 

'  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it  ?'  exclaimed  Albert. 
*  Where's  the  governor  ?' 

'  I  don't  know  where  he  is.  He  was  in  his 
office  at  something  to  seven,  having  an  inter- 
view with  Mrs.  Tudor.  Since  then ' 

Simon  raised  his  eyebrows,  and  Albert 
expressed  a  similar  sentiment  by  means  of  a 
whistle. 

'  Then,  you've  been  telephoning  on  your 
own  for  me  to  come  up  ?' 

'  Yes.' 

'  It's  like  your  cheek !'  Albert  complained, 
calmly  perching  himself  on  the  top  of  the 
grand  piano. 

278 


CHLOROFORM  279 

*  Perhaps  it  will  be.     I  regret  to  tear  you 
from  your  fireside,  Alb,  but  I  wish  to  consult 
you  on  a  matter  affecting  the  governor.' 

'  Go  ahead,  then,'  said  Albert.  '  There's 
been  enough  talk  about  the  governor  to-day 
downstairs,  I  should  hope.' 

*  You  mean  in  reference  to  Mrs.  Tudor' s 
reappearance  ?' 

*  Yes.'     Albert  imitated  Simon's  carefully 
enunciated  periods.     *  I  do  mean  in  reference 
to  Mrs.  Tudor' s  reappearance.     By  the  way, 
what  the  deuce  are  you  burning  all  these  lights 
for?' 

*  I  was  examining  this  photograph,'   said 
Simon,  handing  to  his  brother  a  rather  large 
unmounted  silver-print  photograph  which  had 
lain  on  his  knees. 

*  What  of  it  ?'  Albert  asked,  glancing  at  it. 
*  Medical    and    Pharmaceutical    Department, 
isn't  it  ?     Not  bad.' 

'  We're  having  a  new  series  of  full-plate 
photographs  done  for  the  next  edition  of  the 
General  Catalogue,'  said  Simon,  '  and  this  is 
one  of  them.  It  contains  forty-five  figures. 
It  was  taken  yesterday  morning  by  that 
Curgenven  flashlight  process  that  we're 
running.  Look  at  it.  Don't  you  see  any- 
thing r 


280  HUGO 

*  Nothing  special,'  Albert  admitted. 
Simon  rose  and  came  towards  the  piano. 

'  Let  me  show  you,'  he  said  superiorly. 
*  You  see  the  cash-desk  to  the  left.  There's 
a  lady  just  leaving  the  cash-desk.  And  just 
behind  her  there's  an  oldish  man.  You  can't 
see  all  of  his  face  because  of  her  hat.  He's 
holding  his  bill  in  his  hand — you  can  see  the 
corner  of  it — and  he's  got  some  sort  of  a  parcel 
under  his  arm.  See  ?' 

'  Yes,  Mr.  Lecoq.' 

*  Well,  doesn't  he  remind  you  of  somebody  ?' 
'  He's  rather  like  old  Ravengar,  perhaps,' 

said  Albert  dubiously. 

'  You've  hit  it !'  Simon  almost  shouted.  *  It 
is  Ravengar.' 

'  This  man's  got  no  beard.' 

'  That  comes  well  from  a  detective,  that 
does  !'  said  Simon  scornfully.  '  It  needn't 
have  cost  him  more  than  threepence  to  have 
his  beard  shaved  off,  need  it  ?' 

'  And  seeing  that  this  photograph  was  taken 
yesterday  morning,  and  Ravengar  fell  off  a 
steamer  into  the  Channel  more  than  a  week 
ago  !' 

'  But  did  he  fall  off  a  steamer  more  than  a 
week  ago  ?' 

'  He   was   noticed   on   board   the   steamer 


CHLOROFORM  281 

before  she  started,  and  he  wasn't  on  board 
when  she  arrived.' 

'  Couldn't  he  have  walked  on  to  the  steamer 
with  his  luggage,  and  then  walked  off  again 
and  let  her  start  without  him  ?' 

4  But  why  ?' 

'  Suppose  he  wanted  to  pretend  to  be  dead  ?' 

c  Why  should  he  want  to  pretend  to  be 
dead  ?'  Albert  defended  his  position. 

Simon,  entirely  forgetful  of  that  dignity 
which  usually  he  was  at  such  pains  to  pre- 
serve, sprang  on  to  the  piano  alongside  Albert. 

'  I'll  tell  you  another  thing,'  said  he. 
'  When  I  came  in  with  the  governor's  tea 
this  morning  he  was  just  dozing  and  half- 
dreaming  like — he'd  had  a  very  bad  night — 
and  I  heard  him  say,  "  So  they  think  you  are 
at  the  bottom  of  the  Channel,  Louis  ?  I  wish 
you  were  !"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  my 
son  ?' 

'  Then  the  governor  must  know  Ravengar 
didn't  commit  suicide  in  the  Channel  ?  The 
governor  never  said  a  word  to  me  !' 

'  You  don't  imagine  the  governor  tells  you 
everything,  do  you  ?'  said  Simon  cruelly. 

'  Have  you  shown  him  the  photo  ?'  Albert 
asked. 

*  No,'  said  Simon,  with  a  certain  bluntness. 


282  HUGO 

'  Why  not  ?' 

'  Well,  for  one  thing,  I've  had  no  chance* 
and  for  another  I  wanted  to  find  out  something 
more  first.  I'd  just  like  the  governor  to  see 
that  I'm  not  an  absolute  idiot.  .  .  .  Though 
I  should  have  thought  he  might  have  found 
that  out  before  now.' 

*  He  doesn't  think  you're  an  absolute  idiot,* 
said  Albert. 

'  He  acts  as  if  he  did/  said  Simon.  The 
Paris  trip  still  rankled. 

A  pause  followed. 

'  Another  thing,'  Albert  recommenced. 
6  Even  supposing  Ravengar's  alive,  it's  not 
very  likely  he'd  venture  here,  of  all  places.' 

'  Why  not  ?'  Simon  argued.  '  Scarcely  any- 
body knows  Ravengar  by  sight.  He's  famous 
for  keeping  himself  to  himself.  He's  one  of 
the  least  known  celebrities  in  London.  He'd 
be  safe  from  recognition  almost  anywhere. 
Moreover,  supposing  he  wanted  to  buy  some- 
thing peculiar  ?' 

'  He  might,'  Albert  admitted.  *  But  don't 
forget  this  is  all  theory.  I  suppose  you've 
been  making  your  own  inquiries  in  the  Medical 
Department  ?' 

'  Yes,'  said  Simon  rather  apologetically. 
'  But  I  couldn't  find  anyone  among  the  staff 


CHLOROFORM  283 

who  remembers  serving  such  a  man,  or  even 
seeing  him.  He  may  have  had  an  accomplice, 
you  know,  on  the  staff.  What  makes  it  more 
awkward  is  that  there  were  two  photographs 
taken,  one  about  eleven,  and  another  about 
half -past,  and  the  photographer  got  the  plates 
mixed  up,  and  doesn't  know  whether  this  one 
is  the  first  or  the  second.  You  see,  the  clock 
doesn't  show  in  the  picture  ;  otherwise,  we 
might  have  pieced  things  together.' 
'  Pity  !'  Albert  murmured. 

*  However,'   said  Simon,  with  an  obvious 
intention  to  be  dramatic,  '  I  thought  of  Lecoq, 
and  I  hit  on  something.     You  see  the  lady 
just  leaving  the  cash-desk  with  her  receipt  ? 
Can  you  read  the  number  of  her  receipt  ?' 

Albert  peered. 

'  No,  I  can't,'  he  said. 

*  Neither   could   I,'    Simon   agreed.     c  But 
I've  had  that  part  of  the  photograph  enlarged 
to-night.' 

'  The  deuce  you  have  !'     Albert  opened  his 
eyes. 

*  Yes,  the  deuce  I  have  !     And  here  it  is.' 
Simon  took  a  photographic  print  from  his 

pocket,  showing  the  lady's  hand  and  part  of 
the  receipt,  very  blurred  and  faint,  with  some 
hieroglyphic  figures  mistily  appearing. 


284  HUGO 

'  Looks  like  6,706,'  said  Albert. 

'It's  either  6,706  or  6,766,'  Simon  con- 
curred. *  Now,  Ravengar's  receipt  must  be 
numbered  next  to  hers.  Consequently,  if  we 
go  and  look  at  the  counterfoils  and  dupli- 
cates  ' 

'  Yes,'  said  Albert,  thoughtfully  sliding 
down  from  the  piano. 

'  We  may  be  able  to  find  out  something  very 
interesting,'  Simon  finished,  descending  also. 

1  Now  ?' 

'  Now.  That's  what  I  wanted  you  for. 
You've  got  your  pass-keys  and  everything, 
haven't  you  ?' 

'  Yes.' 

*  Then  run  down  and  search.' 

*  Aren't  you  coming  too  ?' 

*  I  was  only  thinking,  suppose  the  governoi 
came  back  and  wanted  me  ?' 

Albert  gazed  contemptuously  at  this  ex- 
hibition of  timidity  —  the  cowardice  of  a 
born  valet,  he  deemed  it. 

'  Oh,  of  course,'  he  exclaimed,  '  if  you ' 

*  I'll    come,'    said    Simon    boldly.     '  If   he 
wants  me  he  must  wait,  that's  all.' 

They  descended  together  in  Hugo's  private 
lift,  direct  from  the  dome  ;  the  Medical  and 
Pharmaceutical  Department  was  on  the 


CHLOROFORM  285 

ground-floor.  Simon  acted  as  lift-man,  and 
slammed  the  grill  when  they  emerged. 

'  Just  open  that  again,  Si,'  Albert  requested 
him. 

'  Why  ?     What's  up  ?' 

*  Just  open  it.' 

Albert  was  sniffing  about  like  a  dog  that  is 
trying  to  decide  whether  there  is  not  some- 
thing extremely  attractive  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood.  He  re-entered  the  lift,  and 
nosed  it  curiously. 

Suddenly  he  bent  down  and  peered  under 
the  cushioned  seat  of  the  lift,  and  drew  forth 
an  object  that  resembled  in  shape  a  canister 
of  disinfectant  powder. 

'  Conf !'  he  exclaimed,  dropping  it 

sharply.  '  It's  hot.  What  in  the  name 
of- 

He  kicked  the  object  out  of  the  lift  on  to  the 
tessellated  floor  of  a  passage  which  led  to  the 
Fish  and  Game  Department. 

6 1  bet  you  I  can  hold  it,'  said  Simon 
boastfully. 

And,  at  the  expense  of  his  fingers,  he  picked 
it  up,  and  successfully  carried  it  into  the  Fish 
and  Game  Department,  where  a  solitary  light 
(which  burnt  night  and  day)  threw  a  dim 
radiance  over  vast  surfaces  of  white  marble 


286  HUGO 

dominated  by  silver  taps.  The  fish  and  game 
were  below  in  the  refrigerators.  Simon  let 
the  cylinder  fall  on  to  a  slab  ;  Albert  turned  a 
tap,  and  immediately  the  cylinder  was  sur- 
rounded by  clouds  of  steam.  The  phenome- 
non was  like  some  alchemical  and  mysterious 
operation.  And  the  steam,  as  it  rose  and 
spread  abroad  in  the  immense,  pale  interior, 
might  have  been  the  fumes  of  a  fatal  philtre 
distilled  by  a  mediaeval  sorcerer. 

'  I  hope  it  won't  blow  up !'  Simon  ejaculated. 

*  Not  it !'  said  Albert.  *  Let's  have  a  look 
at  it  now.' 

Albert  had  a  mechanical  bent,  and,  with  the 
aid  of  a  tool,  he  soon  discovered  that  the 
cylinder  was  divided  into  two  parts.  In  the 
lower  part  was  burning  charcoal.  In  the 
upper,  carefully  closed,  was  paraffin.  The 
division  between  the  two  compartments  con- 
sisted of  some  sort  of  soldering  lead,  which 
the  heat  of  the  charcoal  had  gradually  been 
melting. 

6  So  when  this  stuff  had  melted,'  he  ex- 
plained to  Simon,  '  the  paraffin  would  run 
into  the  charcoal,  and  there  would  be  a 
magnificent  flare-up.' 

They  looked  at  one  another,  amazed, 
astounded,  speechless. 


CHLOROFORM  287 

And  each  knew  that  on  the  tip  of  the  other's 
tongue,  unuttered,  was  the  word  c  Ravengar.' 

'  But  why  was  it  put  in  the  lift  ?'  asked 
Simon. 

*  Because,'  said  Albert  promptly,  c  a  lift- 
well  is  the  finest  possible  place  for  a  fire. 
There's  a  natural  draught,  and  a  free  chance 
for  every  floor.  Poof  !  And  a  flame's  up 
nine  stories  in  no  time.  And  a  really  good 
mahogany  lift  would  burn  gorgeously,  and 
give  everything  a  good  start.' 

'  There  are  fifteen  lifts  in  this  place,'  Simon 
muttered. 

' 1  know,'  said  Albert. 

He  approached  a  little  glass  square  in  the 
wall,  broke  it,  pulled  a  knob,  and  looked  at  his 
watch. 

'  We'll  test  the  Fire  Brigade  Department,'  he 
remarked ;  and  then,  as  he  heard  a  man 
running  down  the  adjacent  corridor,  *  Seven 
seconds.  Not  bad.' 

In  another  seven  minutes  nine  cylinders, 
which  had  been  found  in  nine  different  lifts, 
were  sizzling  beside  Albert's  original  discovery. 
The  other  five  lifts  appeared  to  have  been 
omitted  from  this  colossal  scheme  for  pro- 
viding London  with  a  pyrotechnic  display 
such  as  London  had  probably  never  had  since 


288  HUGO 

the  year  1666.  The  night  fire  staff,  which 
consisted  of  some  fifty  men,  had  laid  hose  on 
to  every  hydrant,  and  were  taking  instructions 
from  their  chief  for  the  incessant  patrol  of  the 
galleries. 

'  See  here,'  said  Albert,  *  we'd  better  go  on 
with  what  we  started  of  now.' 

'  Had  we  ?'  Simon  questioned  somewhat 
dubiously. 

'  Of  course,'  said  Albert.  *  If  that  is 
Ravengar  in  the  photo,  and  if  we  can  find  out 
anything  to-night,  and  if  Ravengar' s  in  this 
business  ' — he  jerked  his  elbow  towards  the 
cylinders — '  we  shall  be  so  much  to  the  good. 
Besides,  it  won't  take  us  a  minute.' 

So  they  went  forward,  through  twilit 
chambers  and  passages  filled  with  sheeted 
objects,  past  miles  of  counters  inhabited  by 
thousands  of  chairs,  through  doors  whose 
openings  resounded  strangely  in  the  vast 
nocturnal  silence  of  Hugo's,  till  they  came 
to  the  Medical  and  Pharmaceutical  Depart- 
ment. And  the  Medical  and  Pharmaceutical 
Department,  in  its  night- garb,  and  illuminated 
by  a  single  jet  at  either  end  of  it,  seemed  to 
take  on  a  kind  of  ghostly  and  scented  ele- 
gance ;  it  seemed  to  be  a  lunar  palace  of  bizarre 
perfumes  and  crystal  magics. 


CHLOROFORM  289 

The  two  young  men  halted,  and  listened, 
and  they  could  catch  the  distant  footfall  of 
the  patrols  echoing  in  some  far-off  corridor. 
That  reassured  them.  They  ceased  to  fancy 
the  smell  of  burning  and  to  be  victimized  by 
the  illusion  that  a  little  tongue  of  flame  darted 
out  behind  them. 

Albert  gained  access  to  the  accountant's 
cupboard,  and  pulled  out  a  number  of  books, 
over  which  they  pored  side  by  side. 

'  Here  you  are  !'  exclaimed  Simon  presently. 
'  Receipts.  January  9.' 

And  Albert  read :  '  No.  6,766,  Mrs.  Poide- 
vin,  37,  Prince's  Gate;  vinolia.  No.  6,767, 
Dr.  Woolrich,  23,  Horseferry  Road  ;  chloro- 
form !  Can't  make  out  the  quantity,  but  it 
must  be  a  lot,  I  should  think ;  the  price  is 
eighteen  and  ninepence.' 

'Dr.  Woolrich,  23,  Horseferry  Road?' 
Simon  repeated  mechanically.  *  Chloro- 
form ?' 

'  That's  it,'  said  Albert.  '  You  may  bet 
your  boots.  Let's  look  him  up  in  the  Medical 
Directory,  if  they've  got  one  here.  Yes, 
they're  sure  to  have  one.' 

But  there  was  no  Dr.  Woolrich  in  the 
Medical  Directory. 

Once  more  the  brothers  stared  at  each  other. 

19 


290  HUGO 

Was  or  was  not  Ravengar  alive  ?  Were  they 
or  were  they  not  on  his  track  ? 

6  Listen,  Si,'  said  Albert.  '  I'll  drive  right 
down  to  23,  Horseferry  Road,  and  have  a  look 
round.  Eh  ?  What  do  you  say  ?' 

'  I  think  I'll  come,  too,'  Simon  replied. 

In  six  minutes  Albert  pulled  up  the  hansom 
at  the  end  of  the  street,  and  they  walked 
slowly  towards  No.  23,  but  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  road. 

'  That's  it,'  said  Simon,  pointing.  '  What 
are  you  going  to  do  now  ?  Inquire  there  ?' 

At  the  same  moment  a  window  opened 
behind  them,  in  the  house  immediately  facing 
No.  23  ;  they  both  heard  a  hissing  sound, 
evidently  designed  to  attract  their  attention, 
and  they  both  turned  their  heads. 

From  a  first-story  window  Hugo  was  ges- 
ticulating at  them. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

SECOND    TRIUMPH   OF   SIMON 

'  COME  up  at  once,'  Hugo  whispered.  *  Door 
opposite  top  of  stairs.' 

And  he  threw  down  on  to  the  pavement  a 
latchkey. 

'  What  do  you  think  of  yourself  now,  Si  ?' 
Albert  asked  his  brother,  as  they  entered  the 
house.  '  You've  let  yourself  in  for  something 
at  last.' 

They  found  Hugo  in  an  ordinary  bed- 
sitting-room.  He  was  wearing  his  hat  and 
his  overcoat,  and  staring  out  of  the  open 
window.  It  was  a  cold  night,  but  he  did  not 
seem  to  feel  the  icy  draught  which  blew  into 
the  apartment.  The  whole  of  his  attention 
appeared  to  be  concentrated  on  No.  23.  He 
did  not  at  first  even  turn  to  look  at  the 
brothers  when  they  came  in.  They  explained 
themselves. 

'  I  will  tell  you  why  I  am  here,  and  what  has 
291  19—2 


292  HUGO 

occurred  to  me,'  said  Hugo,  playing,  perhaps 
rather  nervously,  with  the  knife  and  cheese- 
plate  which  still  lay  on  the  small  table  by 
the  window.  '  Then  we  can  decide  what  to 
do.  I've  hired  this  room.' 

No  doubt  existed  in  his  mind  that  Simon 
had  happened  upon  the  track  of  the  veritable 
living  Ravengar.  It  could  not  be  a  coinci- 
dence that  a  man  so  strongly  resembling 
Ravengar,  a  man  posing  as  a  doctor,  and 
buying  nearly  a  sovereign's  worth  of  chloro- 
form, should  be  occupying  rooms  in  the  same 
house  as  Camilla.  The  tremendous  revelation 
of  Ravengar' s  genius  for  stratagem  and  in- 
trigue afforded  by  the  recital  of  the  two 
brothers  came  upon  Hugo  with  a  dazing  shock. 
This  man,  whom  he  knew  from  Camilla's  own 
story  to  be  curiously  deficient  in  ordinary 
human  sentiments,  had  arranged  a  sham 
suicide  for  the  benefit  of  the  general  public. 
He  had  let  Hugo  into  the  secret  of  that  decep- 
tion, but  only  to  cheat  him  with  another 
deception,  and  a  more  monstrous  one.  The 
brain  that  could  conceive  the  fiction  of  suicide 
in  the  vault — a  fiction  which,  while  lulling 
Hugo  into  a  false  security  as  regards  Camilla's 
safety,  at  the  same  time  poisoned  his  happi- 
ness— such  a  brain  might  be  capable  of  un- 


SECOND  TRIUMPH  OF  SIMON     293 

imagined  horrors.  Sane  or  mad,  the  mere 
existence  of  that  brain  was  a  menace  before 
which  Hugo  trembled.  He  realized  that 
Ravengar  had  been  consummately  acting 
during  the  latter  part  of  their  interview  on 
the  first  day  of  the  sale,  and  again  consum- 
mately acting  when  he  spoke  to  Hugo  on  the 
telephone.  Ravengar  had,  beyond  doubt,  de- 
liberately set  himself  to  lure  Camilla  back  to 
England,  and  he  had  succeeded.  Beyond 
doubt,  all  her  movements  had  been  spied  and 
marked,  and  Ravengar  had  been  in  a  position 
to  complete  his  arrangements — whatever  his 
arrangements  were — at  leisure  and  with  abso- 
lute freedom.  She  had  taken  a  room  in 
Horseferry  Road,  and  he  had  followed.  .  .  . 
What  was  the  sequel  to  be  ? 

That  she  was  in  his  power  at  that  moment 
Hugo  could  not  question. 

And  the  chloroform  ? 

At  that  moment  Ravengar  had  meant  that 
the  Hugo  building  should  have  been  a  funeral 
pyre — a  spectacle  to  petrify  the  Metropolis. 
And  it  seemed  to  Hugo  that  if  Ravengar  was 
mad,  as  he  must  be,  he  could  only  have  de- 
signed the  spectacle  as  something  final,  as  at 
once  a  last  revenge  and  an  accompaniment 
to  the  supreme  sacrifice  of  Camilla. 


294  HUGO 

'  We  must  get  into  that  house  immediately,' 
said  Hugo,  when  he  had  finished  his  own 
narrative.  '  The  question  is  how  ?' 

'  I've  got  a  card  of  Inspector  Wilbraham's, 
of  the  Yard,  in  my  pocket,'  Albert  suggested. 
'  We  might  use  that,  and  make  out  that  this 
purchase  of  chloroform  under  a  false  name 
had  got  to  be  explained  to  the  Yard  instantly.' 

Albert  had  recently  become  rather  intimate 
with  Scotland  Yard.  Inspector  Wilbraham 
had  even  called  on  him  in  reference  to 
Bentley's  death  and  the  disappearance  of 
Brown  ;  and  Albert  was  duly  proud. 

'  We  will  try  that,'  said  Hugo.  '  Have  you 
any  handcuffs  ?' 

'  No,  sir.' 

'  Go  and  obtain  a  couple  of  pairs.  You 
can  be  back  in  twenty  minutes.  Bring  also 
my  revolver.' 

Hugo  and  Simon  were  left  alone.  Hugo 
spoke  no  word. 

'  I'll  put  the  room  to  rights,  sir,'  said  Simon, 
after  a  pause.  He  could  bear  the  inaction  no 
longer. 

Hugo  nodded  absently,  and  Simon  collected 
the  ruins  of  the  vile  repast  which  his  master 
had  consumed,  and  put  them  outside  on  a 
tray  on  the  landing. 


SECOND  TRIUMPH  OF  SIMON    295 

*  There's  a  light  now  in  the  first  story !' 
exclaimed  Hugo.  *  I  hope  that  boy  won't 
be  long.' 

And  then  Albert  arrived  with  the  revolver 
and  the  handcuffs.  He  had  been  super- 
naturally  quick. 

They  descended  and  crossed  the  road. 

'  You  understand,'  Hugo  instructed  them. 
*  Let  us  have  no  mistake  about  getting  in. 
Immediately  the  door  is  opened,  in  we  all  go. 
We  can  talk  inside.' 

'  Supposing  Albert  and  me  went  down  to  the 
area-door,'  Simon  ventured,  '  instead  of  the 
front-door.  We  might  get  in  easier  that 
way.  It's  always  easier  to  deal  with  servant- 
girls  and  persons  of  that  sort  in  kitchens. 
Then  we  could  come  upstairs  and  let  you 
in  at  the  front-door.  Three  detectives  seem 
rather  a  lot  to  be  entering  all  at  once. 
And,  besides,  you  don't  look  like  a  detec- 
tive, sir.' 

'  What  do  I  look  like  ?'  Hugo  asked 
coldly. 

'  You  look  too  much  like  a  gentleman,  sir. 
It's  the  hat,  sir,'  he  added. 

Simon  had  certainly  surpassed  himself  that 
day.  He  had  begun  by  surpassing  himself  at 
early  morning,  and  he  had  kept  it  up.  Prob- 


296  HUGO 

ably  never  before  in  his  life  had  he  been  so 
loquacious  and  so  happy  in  his  loquacity. 

'  That's  not  a  bad  scheme,  Simon,'  said 
Hugo.  '  Try  it.' 

The  brothers  went  down  the  area-steps 
while  Hugo  remained  at  the  gate.  A  light 
burned  steadily  in  the  first-floor  window. 
And  then  another  and  a  fainter  light  flickered 
in  the  hall,  and  after  a  few  seconds  the  front- 
door opened.  Hugo  literally  jumped  into  the 
house,  and,  safely  within,  he  banged  the  door. 

'  Now,'  he  said. 

A  middle-aged  woman,  holding  a  candle, 
stood  by  Simon  and  Albert  in  the  hall. 

*  Are  you  the  servant  ?'  Hugo  demanded. 

'  No,  sir ;  I'm  the  landlady.  And  I'd  like 
to  know ' 

'  Your  husband  told  me  you  were  away 
and  wouldn't  return  till  to-morrow.' 

'  Seeing  as  how  my  husband's  been  dead 
these  thirteen  years ' 

4  We're  in,  sir.  We'd  better  search  the 
house  to  start  with,'  said  Albert.  '  There's 
three  of  us.  The  man  that  opened  the  door  to 
you  must  have  been  a  wrong  un,  one  of  his.'' 

'  Never  have  I  had  the  police  in  my  house 
before,'  wailed  the  landlady  of  No.  23,  Horse- 
ferry  Road,  while  the  candle  dropped 


SECOND  TRIUMPH  OF  SIMON     297 

tallow  tears  on  the  oilcloth.  c  And  all  I  can 
say  is  I  thank  the  blessed  Lord  it's  dark,  and 
you  aren't  in  uniform.  Doctor  Woolrich's 
rooms  are  on  the  first  floor,  and  you  can  go  up 
and  see  for  yourself,  if  you  like.  And  how 
should  I  know  he  wasn't  a  real  doctor  ?' 

As  the  landlady  spoke,  sounds  of  footsteps 
made  themselves  heard  overhead,  and  a  door 
closed. 

'  Give  me  that  candle,  my  good  woman,' 
said  Hugo,  hastily  snatching  it  from  her. 

The  three  men  ran  upstairs,  leaving  the  hall 
to  darkness  and  the  landlady. 

Whether  Hugo  dropped  the  candle  in  his 
excitement,  or  whether  it  was  knocked  out  of 
his  hand  by  means  of  a  stick  through  the  rails 
of  the  landing-banister  as  he  ascended,  will 
never  be  accurately  known.  He  himself  is 
not  sure.  The  important  fact  is  that  the 
candle  fell,  and  the  trio  stumbled  up  the  last 
few  stairs  with  nothing  to  guide  them  but  a 
chink  of  light  through  a  half-closed  door. 
This  door  led  to  the  rooms  of  Dr.  Woolrich, 
and  the  rooms  of  Dr.  Woolrich  were  well 
lighted  with  gas.  But  they  were  empty. 
There  was  a  sitting-room  and  a  bedroom,  and 
on  the  round  table  in  the  centre  of  the  sitting- 
room  was  a  copy  of  the  most  modern  edition 


298  HUGO 

of  Quain's  '  Dictionary  of  Medicine,'  edited  by 
Murray,  Harold,  and  Bosanquet,  bound  in 
half-morocco  ;  the  volume  was  open  at  the 
article  '  Anaesthetics,'  and  Hugo  will  always 
remember  that  the  page  was  sixty- two.  No 
sooner  were  the  rooms  found  to  be  empty 
than  Hugo  rushed  back  to  the  landing,  fol- 
lowed by  Simon.  The  landing,  however,  even 
with  the  sitting-room  door  thrown  wide  and 
the  light  streaming  across  the  landing  and 
down  the  stairs,  showed  no  sign  of  life. 

Then  Albert,  who  had  remained  within  the 
suite,  called  out : 

'  There  must  be  a  dressing-room  off  this 
bedroom,  and  it's  locked.' 

'  Simon,'  said  Hugo,  'go  to  the  front  window 
and  keep  watch.' 

And  Hugo  ran  into  the  bedroom  to  Albert. 

Decidedly  there  was  a  door  in  the  bedroom 
which  had  the  appearance  of  leading  into  a 
further  room,  but  the  door  would  not  budge. 
The  pair  glanced  about.  No  evidence  of 
recent  human  habitation  was  visible  either  in 
the  sitting-room  or  in  the  bedroom,  save  only 
the  dictionary,  and  Albert  commented  on  this. 

'  We  must  force  that  door,'  Hugo  decided, 
4  ^nd  be  ready  to  look  after  yourself  when  it 
gives  way.' 


SECOND  TRIUMPH  OF  SIMON     299 

As  he  spoke  he  could  see,  in  the  tail  of  his 
eye,  Simon  opening  the  front  window  and 
then  looking  out  into  the  street. 

4  One — two — charge  !'  cried  Hugo  ;  and  he 
and  Albert  flung  themselves  valiantly  against 
the  door. 

They  made  no  impression  upon  it  at  all. 

Breathless  and  shaken,  they  looked  at  each 
other. 

'  Suppose  I  fire  into  the  lock  ?'  said  Hugo. 

'  We  might  try  a  key  first,'  Albert  answered. 

He  took  the  key  from  the  door  between  the 
bedroom  and  the  sitting-room,  and  applied 
it  to  the  lock  of  the  obstinate  portal.  The 
obstinate  portal  opened  at  once. 

'  Empty !'  ejaculated  Albert,  putting  his 
nose  into  a  small  dressing-room. 

With  a  gesture  of  disgust  Hugo  turned 
away.  In  the  same  instant  Simon  withdrew 
his  head  into  the  sitting-room. 

*  I've  seen  him,'  Simon  whispered  in  hoarse 
excitement.  '  He  just  popped  out  of  the 
kitchen  and  came  half-way  up  the  area  steps. 
Then  he  ran  back.  He  saw  me  looking  at 
him.' 

'  Ravengar  ?' 

Simon  nodded.  This  was  the  hour  of 
Simon's  triumph,  the  proof  that  he  had  not 


300  HUGO 

been  mistaken  in  the  theory  which  he  had 
raised  on  the  foundation  of  the  photograph. 

'  Come  along,'  said  Hugo  grimly,  preparing 
to  rush  downstairs. 

But  a  singular  thing  had  occurred.  While 
Simon  had  been  staring  out  of  the  front 
window,  and  Hugo  and  Albert  engaged  in 
forcing  a  door  which  led  to  emptiness,  the 
door  of  the  sitting-room,  the  sole  means  of 
egress ,  from  the  first-floor  suite,  had  been 
shut  and  locked  on  the  outside. 

In  vain  Hugo  assailed  it  with  boot  and 
shoulder  ;  in  vain  Albert  assisted  him. 

*  Keep  your  eye  on  the  street,  you  fool !' 
said  Albert  to  Simon,  when  the  latter  offered 
to  join  the  siege  of  the  door. 

Hugo  and  Albert  multiplied  their  efforts. 

'  There's  a  cab  driven  up,'  Simon  informed 
them  from  the  window.  '  A  man's  got  out. 
Now  he's  gone  down  the  area  steps.  They're 
carrying  something  up,  something  big.  Oh  ! 
look  here,  I  must  help  you.' 

And  Simon  ran  to  the  door.  Before  the 
triple  assault  it  fell  at  last,  and  the  three 
tumbled  pell-mell  downstairs  into  the  hall. 
The  front-door  was  open. 

A  cab  was  just  driving  away.  It  drove 
rapidly,  very  rapidly. 


SECOND  TRIUMPH  OF  SIMON    301 

c  After  it !'  Hugo  commanded. 

The  hunt  was  up. 

Two  minutes  afterwards  another  cab  drove 
up  to  the  door. 

Ravengar  and  another  man  emerged  from 
the  area  holding  between  them  the  form  of  a 
woman.  They  got  leisurely  into  the  cab  with 
the  woman  and  departed. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE    CEMETERY 

BOTH  Simon  and  Albert  easily  outran  Hugo, 
and,  fast  as  the  first  cab  was  travelling,  they 
had  gained  on  it  by  the  time  it  turned  into 
Victoria  Street.  And  at  the  turning  an  inci- 
dent happened.  The  driver,  though  hurried, 
was  apparently  to  a  certain  extent  careful 
and  cautious,  but  he  did  not  altogether  avoid 
contact  with  a  policeman  at  the  corner.  The 
policeman  was  obliged  to  step  sharply  out  of 
the  way  of  the  cab,  and  even  then  the  sleeve 
of  his  immaculate  tunic  was  soiled  by  contact 
with  the  hind- wheel  of  the  vehicle.  Now,  the 
driver  might  have  scraped  an  ordinary  person 
with  impunity,  and  passed  on  unchallenged  ; 
he  might  even  have  soiled  the  sleeve  of  a 
veteran  policeman  and  got  nothing  worse 
than  a  sharp  word  of  censure  and  a  fragment 
of  good  advice.  But  this  particular  police- 
man was  quite  a  new  policeman,  whose  dignity 

302 


THE  CEMETERY  303 

was  as  delicate  and  easily  smirched  as  his 
beautiful  shining  tunic.  And  the  result  was 
that  the  cabby  had  to  stop,  give  his  number, 
and  listen  to  a  lecture. 

Simon  and  Albert  formed  part  of  the 
audience  for  the  lecture.  It  did  not,  how- 
ever, interest  them,  for  they  had  instantly 
perceived  that  the  cab  was  empty. 

Then,  as  the  lecturer  was  growing  eloquent, 
Hugo  arrived,  and  was  informed  of  the  empti- 
ness of  the  vehicle. 

'  It  was  just  a  trick,'  Simon  exclaimed  ;  *  a 
trick  to  get  us  out  of  the  house.' 

4  We  must  go  back,'  said  Hugo,  breathless. 

At  this  moment  the  second  cab  appeared, 
was  delayed  a  moment  by  the  multitude 
listening  to  the  lecture,  and  passed  westwards 
into  Victoria  Street. 

c  They're  in  that !'  cried  Simon. 

'  Are  you  sure  ?'  Hugo  questioned. 

*  Of  course  I'm  sure,'  said  Simon,  who  in 
the  excitement  of  the  trail  had  ceased  to  be 
a  valet. 

To  jump  into  a  hansom  and  order  the  driver 
to  keep  the  four-wheeler  in  sight  ought  to 
have  been  the  work  of  a  few  seconds,  but  it 
occurred,  as  invariably  occurs  when  a  hansom 
is  urgently  needed,  that  no  hansom  was  avail- 


304  HUGO 

able.  The  four-wheeler  was  receding  at  a 
moderate  rate  in  the  direction  of  the  Grosvenor 
Hotel. 

'  Run  after  it !'  said  Hugo.  '  I'll  get  a  cab 
in  the  station-yard  and  follow.' 

The  quarry  vanished  round  a  corner  just 
as  they  tumbled  into  the  hansom  on  the  top 
of  Hugo,  but  it  was  never  out  of  observation 
for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  minute.  Through 
divers  strange  streets  it  came  at  length  into 
Fulham  Road  at  Elm  Place,  and  thencefor- 
ward, at  a  higher  rate  of  speed,  it  kept  to  the 
main  thoroughfare.  The  procession  passed 
the  workhouse  and  the  Redcliffe  Arms.  Be- 
tween Edith  Grove  and  Stamford  Bridge  the 
roadway  was  up  for  fundamental  repairs,  and 
omnibuses  were  being  diverted  down  Edith 
Grove  to  King's  Road.  A  policeman  at  the 
corner  spoke  to  the  driver  of  the  four-wheeler, 
gave  a  sign  of  assent,  and  the  four-wheeler 
went  straight  onwards  into  a  medley  of  wood- 
blocks, which  was  all  that  was  left  of  Fulham 
Road.  The  hansom  followed  intrepidly,  and 
then  its  three  occupants  were  conscious  of  a 
sudden  halt. 

'  Bobby  wants  to  know  where  you're 
going  to,'  said  the  driver,  opening  the 
trap. 


THE  CEMETERY  305 

There  was  a  slight  hesitation,  and  the  police- 
man's voice  could  be  heard  : 

'  Come  out  of  it !' 

'  We're  following  that  four-wheeler,'  Hugo 
was  about  to  say,  but  he  perceived  the  ab- 
surdity of  saying  such  a  thing  in  cold  blood 
to  a  policeman. 

All  three  descended.  The  cabman  had  to 
be  paid.  There  was  a  difficulty  about  finding 
change — one  of  those  silly  and  ridiculous  diffi- 
culties that  so  frequently  supervene  in  crises 
otherwise  grave ;  in  short,  a  succession  of 
trifling  delays,  each  of  which  might  easily 
have  been  obviated  by  perfect  forethought, 
or  by  perfect  accord  between  the  three  men. 

When  next  they  came  to  close  quarters 
with  the  four-wheeler  it  was  leisurely  driving 
away  empty  from  a  small  semi-detached 
house  which  was  separated  from  the  road 
by  a  tiny  garden.  They  ran  into  the  garden. 
The  one  thing  that  flourished  in  it  was  a  '  To 
Let '  notice.  The  front-door,  shaded  by  un- 
pruned  trees,  was  shut,  and  there  were  cob- 
webs on  the  handle,  as  Hugo  plainly  saw 
when  he  struck  a  match.  They  hastened 
round  to  the  back  of  the  house,  where  was  a 
larger  garden.  A  French  window  gave  access 
to  the  house.  This  French  window  yielded 

20 


306  HUGO 

at  once  to  a  firm  push.  The  three  men 
searched  the  ground-floor  and  found  nothing. 
They  then  ascended  the  stairs  and  equally 
found  nothing.  The  house  must  have  been 
empty  for  many  months.  From  the  first- 
floor  window  at  the  back  Hugo  gazed  out* 
baffled.  Far  off  he  could  see  lights  of  houses, 
but  the  foreground  was  all  darkness  and 
mystery. 

'  What  lies  between  us  and  those  lights  ?' 
he  asked. 

c  It  must  be  Brompton  Cemetery,  sir,'  said 
Albert.  '  The  garden  gives  on  the  cemetery, 
I  expect.' 

As  if  suddenly  possessed  by  a  demon,  Hugo 
flew  out  of  the  room,  down  the  stairs,  into  the 
garden.  At  the  extremity  of  the  garden  was 
a  brick  wall,  and  against  the  wall  were  two 
extremely  convenient  barrels ;  they  might 
have  been  placed  there  specially  for  the  occa- 
sion. In  an  instant  he  was  in  the  cemetery. 


The  remainder  of  the  adventure  survives 
in  Hugo's  memory  like  a  sort  of  night-picture 
in  which  all  the  minor  details  of  life  are  lost 
in  large,  vague  glooms,  and  only  the  central 
figures  of  the  composition  emerge  clearly,  in 


THE  CEMETERY  307 

a  sharp  and  striking  brilliance,  against  the 
mysterious  background. 

He  knew  himself  in  the  cemetery,  and  im- 
mediately, by  a  tremendous  effort  of  the  brain, 
he  had  arranged  his  knowledge  of  the  place 
and  decided  exactly  where  he  was.  Instinc- 
tively he  ran  by  side-alleys  till  he  came  to 
the  broad  central  way  which  cuts  this  vast 
field  of  the  dead  north  and  south.  He  hurried 
northwards,  and  when  he  had  gone  about  a 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  he  turned  to  the  left, 
and  then  went  north  again. 

'  It's  here,'  he  muttered. 

He  was  in  the  middle  of  that  strange  and 
sinister  city  within  a  city,  that  flat  expanse 
of  silence,  decay,  and  putrefaction  which  is 
surrounded  on  every  side  by  the  pulsating 
arteries  of  London.  The  living  visit  the  dead 
during  the  day,  but  at  night  the  dead  are  left 
to  themselves,  and  the  very  flowers  which 
embroider  their  dissolution  close  up  and  forget 
them.  Round  about  him  everywhere  trees 
and  shrubs  moved  restlessly  and  plaintively 
in  the  night  breeze  ;  the  angular  grave-stones 
raised  their  kindly  lies  in  the  darkness.  A 
few  stars  flickered  in  the  sky  ;  no  moon.  And 
miles  off,  so  it  seemed,  north,  south,  east,  and 
west,  the  yellow  lights  of  human  habitations, 

20—2 


308  HUGO 

the  lights  of  warm  rooms  where  living  people 
were  so  engaged  in  the  business  of  being  alive 
that  they  actually  forgot  death — these  lights 
winked  to  each  other  across  the  waste  and 
desolation  of  a  hundred  thousand  tombs. 

With  the  certainty  of  a  blind  man,  the 
assurance  of  a  seer  who  has  divined  what  the 
future  holds,  he  approached  the  vault.  He 
was  aware  that  the  little  gate  in  the  railing 
would  be  open.  It  was.  He  was  aware  that 
the  iron  door  in  the  side  of  the  vault  would 
be  unlocked.  It  was.  He  pushed  it  and 
entered.  All  difficulties  and  hindrances  had 
been  removed.  No  odour  of  death  greeted 
his  nostrils,  unless  the  strong  smell  of  chloro- 
form can  be  called  the  odour  of  death.  He 
struck  a  match.  The  first  thing  he  saw  was 
a  candle  and  a  screwdriver,  and  then  the 
match  blew  out.  The  door  of  the  vault  was 
ajar,  and  he  would  not  close  it.  He  dared 
not.  He  struck  another  match  and  put  it 
to  the  candle,  and  the  vault  was  full  of 
jumping  shadows.  And  he  looked  and  looked 
again.  Yes,  down  in  that  corner  she  lay, 
motionless,  lifeless,  done  with  for  ever  and 
ever.  Only  her  face  was  visible.  The  rest 
of  her  seemed  to  be  covered  with  a  man's 
overcoat,  flung  hastily  down.  He  stared, 


THE  CEMETERY  309 

enchanted  by  the  horror.  What  was  that 
white  stuff  round  her  head  ?  Part  of  it 
seemed  to  be  torn,  and  a  strip  fluttered  across 
her  closed  eyelids.  He  went  nearer.  He 
touched — cold  !  Could  she  be  so  soon  cold  ? 
And  then  the  truth  swept  over  him,  and 
almost  swept  his  senses  away,  that  this 
image  in  the  corner  was  not  she,  but  merely 
that  waxen  thing  made  by  the  sculptor  in 
Paris,  that  counterfeit  which  had  deceived 
him  in  the  drawing-room  of  the  flat. 

Then  where  was  she  ?  And  why  was  not 
this  counterfeit  in  its  coffin,  in  which  it  had 
been  buried  with  all  the  rites  of  the  Church  ? 
The  coffin  ?  Yes,  the  coffin  was  there  at  his 
feet,  with  its  brass  plate,  which  had  rusted 
at  the  corners ;  and  below  it,  in  some  unde- 
fined depth,  was  another  coffin,  the  sarco- 
phagus of  Tudor  himself.  He  stooped  and 
shifted  the  candle.  On  Camilla's  coffin  were 
a  number  of  screws,  rolled  about  in  various 
directions;  only  one  screw  was  in  its  place. 
He  seized  the  screwdriver  —  and  in  that 
moment  a  tiny  part  of  his  intelligence  found 
leisure  to  decide  that  this  screwdriver  was 
slightly  longer  than  the  one  he  had  used 
aforetime  for  a  similar  purpose — and  he  un- 
screwed the  solitary  screw  and  raised  the  lid 


310  HUGO 

of  the  coffin,  letting  all  the  screws  roll  off  it 
with  a  great  rattle.  ...  An  overwhelming 
rush  of  chloroform  vapour  escaped.  .  .  .  She 
lay  within,  dressed  in  her  black  dress,  and 
her  dress  had  been  crammed  into  the  coffin 
hastily,  madly,  and  was  thrust  down  in  thick, 
disorderly  folds  about  her  feet,  and  her  hair 
half  covered  her  face.  And  her  face  was 
slightly  flushed,  and  her  eyelids  quivered, 
and  the  cheeks  were  warm.  He  put  his 
hands  under  her  armpits  and  wrenched  her 
out  and  carried  her  from  the  vault.  And 
then  he  sank  to  the  ground  sobbing. 

What  caused  him  to  sob  ?  If  any  man 
dared  now  to  ask  him,  and  if  he  dared  to 
answer,  he  might  reply  that  it  was  not  grief 
nor  joy,  nor  the  reaction  from  an  intolerable 
strain,  but  simply  the  idea  of  the  terrific  and 
heart-breaking  cruelty  of  Ravengar  which  had 
dragged  from  him  a  sob. 

The  path  followed  by  the  madman's  brain 
was  easy  to  pursue  once  the  clue  found.  He 
had  been  cheated  into  the  belief  that  Camilla's 
body  rested  in  that  coffin,  and  when  he  had 
discovered  that  it  did  not  rest  there  he  had 
determined  that  the  mistake  should  be  rec- 
tified, the  false  made  true.  That  had  seemed 
to  him  logical  and  just.  She  was  supposed 


THE  CEMETERY  311 

to  be  in  the  coffin  ;  she  should  really  be  in  the 
coffin  ;  she  should  be  forced  and  jammed  into 
it.  And  his  lunatic  and  inhuman  fancy  had 
added  even  to  that  conception.  She  should 
be  drugged  and  carried  to  the  vault,  and 
drugged  again,  and  then  immured,  uncon- 
scious, but  alive  ;  and  if  by  chance  she  awoke 
from  the  chloroform  sleep  after  he  had  finished 
screwing  in  the  screws,  so  much  the  better  ! 
So  it  was  that  his  mind  had  worked.  And  the 
scheme  had  been  executed  with  that  courage, 
that  calmness,  that  audacity,  that  minute 
attention  to  detail,  of  which  only  madmen  at 
their  maddest  appear  to  be  capable.  Beyond 
any  question  the  scheme  would  have  succeeded 
had  not  Hugo,  the  moment  Albert  Shawn 
uttered  the  word  '  cemetery,'  perceived  the 
general  trend  of  it  in  a  single  wondrous  flash 
of  intuition.  He  had  guessed  it,  and  even 
while  afraid  to  believe  that  he  was  right,  had 
known  absolutely  and  convincingly  that  he 
was  right. 

Camilla  murmured  some  phrase,  and  gave 
a  sigh  as  she  lay  on  the  gravelled  path. 

She  had  recovered  from  the  fatal  torpor  in 
the  cool  night  air.  He  said  nothing,  because 
he  felt  that  he  could  do  nothing  else.  Albert 
and  Simon  were  certainly  looking  for  him  in 


312  HUGO 

the  maze  of  the  cemetery ;  they  would  find 
him  soon.  It  did  not  seem  to  him  extra- 
ordinary that  he  had  left  them  in  that  sudden, 
swift  fashion  without  a  word. 

Then  he  heard,  or  thought  he  heard,  a 
noise  in  the  vault,  and,  summoning  all  his 
strength  of  will,  he  descended  the  steps  again 
and  glanced  within.  Ravengar  was  there. 
Had  he  been  there  all  the  time,  hidden  behind 
the  door  ?  Or  had  he  fled  and  stealthily  re- 
turned ?  Only  Ravengar  could  say.  He  had 
taken  up  the  image  from  the  corner  and  was 
replacing  it  in  the  coffin.  It  was  as  if  he  had 
bowed  his  obstinate  purpose  to  some  higher 
power  which  was  inscrutable  to  him.  Children 
and  madmen  can  practise  this  singular  and 
surprising  fatalism.  Disturbed,  he  raised  his 
head  and  caught  sight  of  Hugo.  They  gazed 
at  one  another  by  the  flickering  candle. 

'  Where's  the  man  who  helped  you  ?'  Hugo 
demanded  faintly. 

He  had  not  much  heart,  much  force,  much 
firmness  left.  Ravengar' s  eyes,  at  once  empty 
and  significant,  blank  and  yet  formidable, 
startled  him.  He  had  the  revolver  and  the 
handcuffs  in  his  pocket,  but  he  could  not  have 
used  them.  Ravengar's  eyes,  so  fiendish  and 


THE  CEMETERY  313 

so  ineffably  sad,  melted  his  spine.  Raven- 
gar  stepped  forward  and  Hugo  stepped 
back. 

'  Let  me  pass,'  said  Ravengar,  in  the  tone 
of  one  who  has  suffered  much  and  does  not 
mean  to  suffer  much  more. 

And  Hugo  let  him  pass,  inexplicably, 
weald y  ;  and  at  the  end  of  a  narrow  path  he 
merged  into  the  vague,  general  darkness. 
And  then  Hugo  heard  the  sound  of  a  struggle, 
and  the  voices  of  Simon  and  Albert — young 
and  boisterous  and  earthly  and  sane.  And 
then  scampering  footfalls  which  died  away  in 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  cemetery. 

And  Camilla  sat  up,  rubbing  her  eyes. 

4  It's  all  right,'  he  soothed  her. 


CHAPTER  XXVHI 

BEAUTY 

4  HUM  !  he's  going  to  marry  her,'  Simon  had 
said,  and  Albert  had  said,  and  Lily  had  said. 
4 1  knew  it  all  along.'  When,  at  the  end  of  six 
months,  Hugo  went  away,  much  furaishing 
of  rooms  near  the  Dome  took  place  by  his 
orders  during  his  absence. 

Yet  here  was  Hugo  back  at  the  end  of  the 
fortnight,  radiant  certainly,  but  alone. 

*  There  was  one  little  matter  I  forgot,'  Hugo 
began,  rather  timidly,  as  Simon  thought,  when 
assured  that  everything  was  in  order. 

4  Yes,  sir  ?'  said  Simon. 

*  I  want  you  to  be  good  enough  to  give  up 
your  room.' 

4  My  room,  sir  ?' 
4  To  oblige  a  lady.' 
4  A  lady,  sir  ?' 

4 1  should  say  a  lady's  lady.' 
Simon  paused.     He  was  wounded,  but  he 
could  not  show  it. 

314 


BEAUTY  315 

4  With  pleasure,  sir.' 

*  To-night,'  Hugo  proceeded,  '  you  can 
occupy  my  bed  in  the  dome  ;'  and  he  pointed 
to  the  spot  where,  during  the  day,  the  bed  lay 
ingeniously  hidden  in  a  recess  of  the  wall.  '  I 
shall  no  longer  need  it.  To-morrow  we  can 
make  some  more  permanent  arrangement  for 
you.' 

'  Yes,  sir.' 

4  Also,'  Hugo  continued,'  I  would  like  you 
to  go  along  to  the  offices  of  the  Morning  Post 
for  me  some  time  to-night  before  ten  o'clock 
and  take  this.  There  will  be  a  guinea  to  pay.' 
Hugo  handed  him  a  slip  of  paper. 

4  Yes,  sir.' 

'  Read  it,'  said  Hugo. 

And  Simon  read :  '  "  A  marriage  has  been 
arranged,  and  " — and — has  taken  place,  sir  ?' 

'  Precisely.' 

4  Precisely,  sir.  "  Has  taken  place  at  Hythe 
between  Mr.  Owen  Hugo,  of  Sloane  Street, 
London,  and  Mrs.  Camilla  Tudor,  widow  of 
the  late  Mr.  Francis  Tudor."  ' 

4  You  are  the  first  to  know,  Simon.' 

Simon  bowed. 

4  May  I  respectfully  venture  to  wish  you 
every  happiness,  sir  ?'  Simon  pronounced  at 
his  most  formal. 


316  HUGO 

'  No,  you  may  not,'  said  Hugo.  *  But  you 
may  shake  hands  with  me.' 

And  he  respectfully  ventured  to  explain  to 
Simon  how,  in  the  case  of  a  man  like  himself, 
with  three  thousand  five  hundred  tongues 
ever  ready  to  wag  about  him,  absolute  secrecy 
had  been  the  only  policy. 

'  Telephone  down  to  the  refreshment  de- 
partment for  Tortoni  to  come  up  to  me 
instantly.  I  must  order  a  dinner  for  two.  My 
wife  and  her  maid  will  be  here  in  half  an  hour. 
I  shall  not  want  you — at  any  rate,  before  ten- 
thirty  or  so.' 

'  Yes,  sir.     And  the  maid  ?' 

'  What  about  the  maid  ?' 

'  You  said  you  would  order  dinner  for  two,  sir. ' 

'Look  here,  Simon,'  said  Hugo.  'If  you 
will  take  the  maid  down  to  dine  in  the  Central 
Restaurant  and  keep  her  there — take  her 
with  you  for  a  drive  to  the  Morning  Post— 
I  shall  regard  it  as  a  favour.  Catch  !'  And 
he  threw  to  Simon  the  gold  token,  which  made 
Simon  master  of  all  the  good  things  in  the 
entire  building.  '  Make  use  of  that.' 

Simon  felt  a  little  nervous  at  the  prospect. 
He  had  not  seen  the  maid.  However,  he 
hoped  for  the  best,  and  assured  Hugo  of  his 
delight. 


BEAUTY  317 

'  I  forgot  to  inform  you,  sir,'  he  turned  back 
to  tell  Hugo  as  he  was  leaving  the  room, 
'  Doctor  Darcy  called  again  to-day.  He  has 
called  several  times  the  last  few  days.  He 
said  he  might  look  in  again  to-night.' 

The  bridegroom  started. 

'  If  he  should,'  Hugo  ordered,  *  don't  say 
I'm  in  till  you've  warned  me.' 

'  Yes,  sir.' 

Three  hours  later  the  bride  and  bridegroom 
were  finishing  one  of  the  distinguished  Tor- 
toni's  most  elaborate  dinners.  Tortoni  had 
protested  that  it  was  destructive  of  the  ele- 
mentary principles  of  art  to  order  a  dinner  for 
eight-thirty  at  seven  o'clock.  However,  he 
had  not  completely  failed.  The  waiters  had 
departed,  and  Camilla,  in  dazzling  ivory-white, 
was  pouring  out  coffee.  Hugo  was  cutting  a 
cigar.  They  did  not  speak  ;  they  felt.  They 
were  at  the  end  of  the  brief  honeymoon,  and 
the  day  was  at  an  end.  The  last  remnants  of 
twilight  had  vanished,  and  through  the  eastern 
windows  of  the  dome  the  moon  was  rising. 
Neither  the  hour  nor  the  occasion  made  for 
talkativeness.  Life  lay  before  Hugo  and 
Camilla.  Both  were  honestly  convinced  that 
they  had  not  lived  till  that  hour — that  hour 
whence  dated  the  commencement  of  their 


318  HUGO 

regular  united  existence.  They  looked  at  each 
other,  satisfied,  admiring,  happy,  expecting 
glorious  things  from  Fate. 

There  was  a  discreet  alarm  at  the  door. 
Simon  came  in.  It  would  have  been  a  gross 
solecism  to  knock,  but  Simon  performed  the 
equivalent.  He  paused,  struck  when  he  be- 
held Camilla,  as  well  he  might ;  for  Camilla 
was  such  a  vision  as  is  not  often  vouchsafed 
to  the  Simons  of  this  world.  She  was  peerless 
that  evening.  And  she  smiled  charmingly  on 
him,  and  asked  after  his  health. 

'  Your  coffee,  dearest,'  she  murmured  to 
Hugo. 

It  occurred  to  Simon  that  the  dome  would 
never  be  the  same  again.  This  miraculous 
and  amazing  creature  was  going  to  be  always 
there,  to  form  part  of  his  daily  life,  to  swish 
her  wonderful  skirts  in  and  out  of  the 

rooms,  to  —  to He  did  not  know 

whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry.  He  knew  only 
that  he  was  perturbed,  thrown  off  his  balance, 
so  much  so  that  he  forgot  to  explain  his 
invasion. 

*  Well,  Simon,'  said  Hugo,  '  had  your  dinner 
and  been  to  the  Morning  Post  office  V 

6  Yes,  sir.' 

*  Alone  ?' 


BEAUTY  319 

Simon  blushed. 

'  No,  sir.' 

'  Good.' 

'  Doctor  Darcy  is  here,  sir.  Are  you  at 
home  ?' 

Hugo  had  utterly  forgotten  about  Doctor 
Darcy.  He  glanced  at  his  wife  interroga- 
tively, but  Camilla  looked  at  the  moon 
through  the  window. 

'  Show  Doctor  Darcy  in  in  five  minutes,' 
said  Hugo. 

4  Poor  old  Darcy  !'  exclaimed  Camilla  when 
they  were  alone.  '  Does  he  know  ?' 

'  Know  what  ?  That  we  are  married  ? 
No.  I  wrote  to  him  nearly  six  months  ago 
to  tell  him  that  you  were  safe  and  all  that, 
and  he  acknowledged  the  letter  on  a  postcard. 
Afterwards  I  sent  him  that  trifle  of  money 
that  you  owed  him,  and  he  sent  a  stamped 
receipt.' 

'  He  always  hides  his  feelings,'  said  Camilla. 
'  This  will  be  a  blow  for  him  !' 

'  How  ?' 

'  Didn't  he  tell  you  he  was  most  violently 
in  love  with  me  in  Paris  ?' 

'  He  did  not,'  said  Hugo.    c  Did  he  tell  you  P 

'  No,  of  course  not.  He  was  far  too 
chivalrous  for  that.  It  would  have  seemed 


320  HUGO 

like  taking  advantage  of  my  situation  to 
force  me  into  a  marriage.' 

4  How  do  you  know  he  was  violently  in  love 
with  you,  bright  star  ?'  Hugo  demanded  in 
that  amiably  malicious  tone  which  he  could 
never  withstand  the  temptation  to  employ. 

'  My  precious  boy,'  replied  Camilla,  '  how 
does  a  woman  know  these  things  ?' 

And  she  came  over  and  kissed  Hugo. 

*  You  shall  talk  to  him  first,'  she  said.  *  I'll 
join  you  later.' 

'Did  he  ever  commit  sublime  follies  for 
you,'  Hugo  asked,  detaining  her  hand,  '  as  I 
did  when  I  shut  up  the  entire  place  because 
I  thought  you  looked  exhausted  one  hot 
morning  ?' 

She  bent  over  him. 

'  Darcy  is  incapable  of  any  folly  in  regard 
to  women,'  she  said.  '  That  is  one  reason  why 
we  should  never  have  suited  each  other,  he 
and  I.  A  fool  should  always  marry  a  fool. 
Consider  my  folly  when  I  came  back  to  work 
in  your  Department  42  simply  because  I 
could  not  forget  your  masterful  face.  Wasn't 
that  also  sublime  ?' 

'  You  never  told  me ' 

'  But  you  guessed.' 

'  Perhaps.' 


BEAUTY  321 

She  withdrew  her  hand,  and  then  that  de- 
licious swish  of  skirts  which  Simon's  imagina- 
tion had  foretold  thrilled  Hugo  with  delight. 
He  launched  a  kiss  towards  her  as  she 
vanished. 

'  We  are  all  to  be  heartily  congratulated,' 
said  Darcy,  somewhat  astonished  when  Hugo 
had  put  him  abreast  of  the  times.  '  At  one 
period  I  suspected  that  you  were  going  to 
make  a  match  of  it,  and  then,  as  I  heard 
nothing,  I  began  to  be  afraid  that  she  had 
been  unable  to  banish  my  humble  self  from 
her  mind.  And,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  the 
object  of  this  present  visit  to  London  was  to 
inform  myself,  and,  if  necessary,  to — offer  her 
See? 

Hugo  was  bound  to  admit  that  he  saw. 
Inwardly  he  laughed  to  think  that  he  had 
been  seriously  disturbed  by  Darcy 's  state- 
ment in  regard  to  the  condition  of  Camilla's 
heart. 

4  Shall  we  go  out  to  the  top  of  the  dome  ?' 
he  suggested. 

They  rose. 

And  at  that  juncture  Camilla  reappeared. 

The  greeting  between  the  Paris  friends  was 
commendably  calm,  but  neither  seemed  to  be 
able  to  speak  freely.  And  at  length  Camilla 

21 


322  HUGO 

said  she  would  get  a  cloak  and  follow  them  to 
the  belvidere. 

The  two  men  climbed  to  the  summit  which 
dominated  the  City  of  Pleasure.     To  the  east 
the    famous    roof    restaurant    glittered    and 
jingled  under  the  moon.     To  the  west  the 
Great  Wheel  was  outlined  in  flame — a  symbol 
of  the  era.  Hugo  told  Darcy  the  history  of  the 
night  in  the  cemetery,  and  what  preceded, 
and  what  came  after  it,  including  the  strange 
death  of  Ravengar  in  a  lunatic  asylum,  and 
how  everything  was  explained  or  explicable — 
even  Mr.  Brown,   the   manager  of  the  Safe 
Deposit,  had  run  up  against  justice  in  Caracas 
— save  and  except  the  identity  of  Ravengar' s 
accomplice  during  the    last  days.      He  was 
enlarging  upon  the  inscrutability  of  that  part 
of  the  affair,  and  upon  the  interest  which  it 
lent  to  the  whole  episode,  when  Darcy,  who 
had  not  been  listening,   broke  in  upon   his 
observation  with  an  inapposite  remark  which 
obviously  sprang  from  deep  feeling. 

'  She's  simply  marvellous  !'  cried  Darcy. 

'  Who  T' 

4  Your  wife.     Simply  marvellous  !     I  had 
no  idea — in  Paris ' 

c  Recollect,  you  are  not  in  love  with  her, 
my  friend,'  Hugo  laughed. 


BEAUTY  323 

*  She  must  have  the  best  blood  in  her  veins. 
With  that  style,  that  carriage,  she  surely  must 

'  My  dear  fellow,'  said  Hugo,  *  beauty  has 
no  rank.  It  bloweth  where  it  listeth.  It  is 
the  one  thing  in  the  world  that  you  can't 
account  for.  You've  only  got  to  be  thankful 
for  it  when  it  blows  your  way,  that's  all.' 

A  white  figure  appeared  in  the  cavity  of  the 
steps  leading  to  the  circular  gallery. 

'  What  are  you  talking  about  ?'  Camilla 
inquired. 

*  Women,'  said  Hugo. 


THE   END 


15 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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